


No Glory in the West

by cowboylakay



Series: No Glory in the West [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/pseuds/cowboylakay
Summary: Jeff and Abed live a pretty good life in a ranch they built, until they don’t. Their lives spinning out of their control, they escape to Colorado, where they meet new people, see old friends, and run from their pasts.But the past catches up to everyone, especially those running from it.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Jeff Winger
Series: No Glory in the West [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112459
Comments: 17
Kudos: 22





	1. The Beginning of the End

Despite his initial hold-ups, Abed kind of liked the searing Texan heat.

It seeped into his clothes and warmed his core to the point of needing cold refreshments, and his hair usually smelled awful by the end of the day, and he’d find himself unable to touch his own skin without feeling like he’d burnt himself, but that was home. The bright blue sky, the colours that wafted through it when the sun set, and the clean, crisp, country air all did wonders for him, even a few years into leaving behind a life of crime. He’d gotten sentimental for this little spot of heaven they’d found on this side of the Colorado, but he couldn’t find a single wrong in his doing.

The ranch was perfect. It was everything he could ever have asked for, and so much more. It was once a nice little plot of land he and Jeff had built on, a good distance from the nearest town so they couldn’t hold claim to the land. The life of an outlaw had never been easy, and surely never paid much, but their combined savings had been more than enough to buy the materials they needed and employ a few hands to help build the ranch. It helped that they had no idea who they were, the news of a mismatched pair of law-murdering ex-gunslingers not having made it to that part of the state yet.

It took about two months to finish the ranch, simple as it was. The layout was pretty straight-foreward; two-story, with the kitchen, bathroom, dining room, and living room in the first floor and two bedrooms on the second floor. Abed wanted the kitchen to be next to the main door, and Jeff wanted the living room to be further into the left-hand corner of the house, and both of them wanted the outer coat to be a nice off-white, and it really all just fell into place.

There were two bedrooms, but they only ever really needed the one. They shared a bed every night since that first day, under the same Texan sky in a lone prairie, where they kissed and told each other words that brought them to this day, five years since then, still together and finally living in a place they could call home. It had taken blood, sweat, tears, and bullets to get to where they were now, and neither found themselves regretting any of it.

The spare bedroom was furnished, being put to use when they’d have visitors. Troy liked to drop by often, sometimes for a day and sometimes for a week. He kept them updated on matters that didn’t reach their part of the country, like an uprising of union workers in southern banks and the establishment of agencies. He’d also go through their pantry like wildfire, so they’d keep themselves extra stocked anytime he came over.

Sometimes, Annie came over. She was a bit of a wilder soul than Troy, wanting to prove something to herself or to the world or both, so she drifted to many places. When she was in the south, she’d make it a mission to visit them at least once, before heading on further south to Mexico or heading east into Indiana. Out of the four of them, Annie was the fastest one to rise to fame, her tales of being a sweet-faced sharp-eye spreading all across the country. When she was in their home, though, she was just young Annie Edison, as kind-hearted and caring as the grass is green.

Most days, they were alone. Jeff had warned him that he’s insufferable to be around constantly and that Abed’ll probably get tired of him before the year closed. That had been four years ago, when they first built the ranch and spent the first night in a bed that they could wholeheartedly claim was theirs. They broke it in the next day, beginning their day lost in each other and kissing like they had all the time in the world, which they really did. Abed had assured Jeff that he was there to stay, for good.

Aside from the house, they had a stable, a coop, and a paddock. They weren’t the kind of men for cows or sheep, but they had a mutual love for horses, so the stable had been one of the first additions to the property. It was originally only large enough for their two mares, Polly and Diana, as they had no concrete plans to get more horses, but Abed had bonded so well with a gelding named Cooper that he met at a fair in the nearby town that he couldn’t resist getting him, and Jeff generally couldn’t resist Abed, so they made adjustments for a third stall. The paddock came after, so the horses would have a space to do as they please outside of their stalls, and the chicken coop and subsequent chickens came last, for what Jeff calls  _ ‘poultry reasons.’ _

Everything was good. _Life_ was good. Their love held strong throughout the years and their life on the ranch was everything they wanted. Simple life away from the dark, dusty, bloody past they once lived, on the run from authorities and living everyday like it was their last.

They were too relaxed. Abed had been too relaxed. He should’ve known that everything would catch up to them someday; it wasn’t a matter of  _how_ or  _why_ _,_ but a matter of  _ when_ _._ He let himself get so caught up in normalcy and retirement that he didn’t see the signs for what they were.

It started with Polly’s passing. Jeff had been miserable all day, sitting by her side and petting her neck as she laid down on the hay and simply enjoyed his presence. Polly was an old mare, older than Abed’s Diana and much older than Cooper. She’d seen Jeff through many years at the age of seventeen, having been his horse since he left home and became a gunslinger. Abed had tried to comfort him, but he knew this loss; he’d been devastated when his old stallion, Smoky, died during a shoot-out with the law. He’d only had him for three years before he got Diana, but it still hurt him more than he thought it would. He couldn’t really imagine what Jeff was feeling then, having lost one as close as a career-long mare.

Then, a week after her death, a ruthless storm swept through, destroying multiple fenceposts and freaking the horses and the chickens out. It had been a long day trying to clean everything up, and they lost two chickens god-knows-where, and by the end of the day they’d just been so tired they couldn’t do a thing.

The next day was relatively better, but not one of the best. Jeff was still grieving his horse, Abed was still patching up the hole in the coop, and they hadn’t heard from Troy in awhile, but it was still better than the day before.

Then, in the middle of the night, sharp, rapid knocks on their door.

“Jeff? Jeff, wake up,” Abed sleepily says, tapping Jeff’s shoulder three times as the man blinked his eyes open, the moonlight shining down on them from the window of their bedroom. “Do you hear that?” He asks, just as the same knocks sound out through the wood. Jeff’s eyes open a little wider.

Then, following the knocks, they hear a muffled but unmistakable voice call out to them, “Abed?! Jeff! It’s me!”

They’re rushing down the stairs, half dressed as Abed gets to the door first and opens it, letting Troy in as he flicks the light switch on. The light’s too bright for his eyes at this time of night, but he puts aside his personal comfort to ask, “Troy? What’re you doing here so late? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, yeah, there is,” Troy tells him, breathing hard and fast as Abed leads him to the dining table and sits him down. Jeff comes into the room then, holding a glass of water and giving it to Troy as he looks at him with concern. “I been riding hard for days, and I would’ve made it here sooner if it weren’t for that goddamn storm, but I got here as fast as I could.”

Abed and Jeff exchange a look while Troy drinks as Jeff asks him, “What for, Troy? What’s got you worked up like this?”

Troy looks at them with dread in his eyes, worried lines across his forehead. “They’re rounding up and hunting shooters from our times. The government never liked us, I know that, but they’re really putting stock on wiping us out now. Even them who’ve been out of the life for awhile. They got databases and whatnot, shit that tell them who we are and what we did,” He says, taking another sip from his water. He’s holding the glass tightly. “They’re an organisation called the _Pinkerton National Detective Agency._ They was just guards for businesses and union moles back then, but now they’re a real problem. They hanged Mikey B. and put all the Sawyer Brothers behind bars for  life, Abed. Before I left Louisiana, they’d already killed Bobby Deadeye.”

“Bobby’s been out for over ten years,” Abed says quietly, trying to process all of this information. Panic rises in his throat as he grips the edge of the table and begin rubbing the wood with his fingertips. Jeff hovers close to him, almost touching but not quite.

“Exactly,” Troy responds, “Bobby hasn’t—  _hadn’t_ picked up a gun since he settled down with Maggie, and they still killed him. She sent me a telegram to let me know, and if she hadn’t, I don’t think I’d be here.”

“Maggie’s always been smarter than most of us put together,” Jeff mutters, running a hand through his hair as he breathes in and out slowly. He hears Abed follow his breathing pattern. “They gotten here yet?”

“Pinkertons? Yeah, most likely. Maggie thinks y’all might be next, since they’ve been making their way down south all the way from the east. It’s hard to say.” Troy puts the glass down, clasping his hands together. He’s still covered in dust from the road. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but... y’all might need to leave.”

“And go where?” Abed asks shakily, beginning to pace. Sure, the last week had been a little hard on them, but this is  _home._ This is where they belong. “We can’t just— just leave!”

“I’m sorry, Abed,” Troy tells him sincerely as Jeff places a calming hand on Abed’s shoulder. “Really, I am. I don’t know where you’d go, but they’re moving down here, and they’re moving  fast.”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out, okay?” Jeff whispers to Abed, trying to calm him down. Abed’s eyes dart around frantically as he tries to calm himself, tries to mimic Jeff’s breathing, but it’s too much. He doesn’t want to leave. He’d built the last four years of his life in this house with Jeff, and the thought of just leaving it behind scares him.

He only half registers sitting down in one of the dining table’s chairs. He watches Jeff take Troy’s coat to hang it and Troy head into the bathroom from the corner of his eye, but he’s not really paying attention to any of it. The world feels too loud and too bright for him right now as he tries not to think of the news, but finds his mind draws itself back to it.

Jeff sits next to him, the sleeves of his grey union suit bunching up to his upper arms as he puts both hands on the table for Abed to see. They both know what this means even without speaking, which Abed finds he appreciates now more than ever before, because he can’t bring himself to speak. He lifts his hand and takes Jeff’s closest hand, holding it as Jeff holds his and rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand. Abed feels himself calm down the tiniest bit, even though he still feels like he’s being choked.

The thought of losing the ranch fills him with fear and grief. It would be like losing a part of himself, like leaving behind a part of himself for wolves to feed on. His mind races to multiple paths, like _where are we going to go? What will happen to the house? Can we come back someday? Can we even run away, knowing they’re still coming for us? Is this it?_

“Hey, hey, Abed,” Jeff says lowly, keeping his voice quiet even though they were the only ones in the room. “Sweetheart, we’ll be alright,” He assures him, his other hand coming to hold the hand he’d already been holding, “We’ll make it through, I know we will. We’ll figure something out, and if we have to move, we move, even if it hurts.”

He kisses Abed’s hand, looking down at the wood of the table. “I don’t want to leave. This life is... _everything_ to me. It’s what I wanted even when I didn’t know what I wanted. It’s what I wanted with _you_ even before I knew I wanted things with you in it. Living here has given me the best years of my life, and having to leave is painful, but...” He trails off, swallowing dryly as tears prickle his eyes. “But losing you would be worse. I can’t let that happen, not in any life we live. I could lose everything else, but losin’ you... that ain’t something I wanna experience.”

Abed blinks through the tears, shaking slightly as he pulls Jeff into a hug. They hold each other for what feels like a long while, buried in each other’s shoulders and silently mourning. They part just as Troy exits the bathroom, looking a little cleaner but even more tired than when he first came.

“Why don’t you go on and set Troy up in the guest room, while I put his horse away?” Jeff asks him, still holding his hand. He kisses it again, looking for Abed’s nod before he gets up and leaves in a few strides, closing the front door behind him.

Abed sits there for a moment longer before he gets up too, looking at Troy. He looks beat, most likely exhausted from the journey from the fringes of Louisiana to west Texas, but he still flashes a small, worried smile at Abed. Abed doesn’t meet his gaze but he looks at Troy’s chin, smiles a fraction of a smile, and wordlessly gestures to the stairs. Troy follows his lead, quiet but for his breathing and footsteps, and follows him to the guest bedroom, bed made up the same way as when he last came. Troy sits on the bed while Abed sits next to him, leaning into his space.

“I don’t wanna leave,” Abed says quietly, accepting Troy’s shoulder against his. He doesn’t say anything more, throat too tight for anything else, so he lets the words hang in the air. Troy sighs through his nose, nodding in understanding.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this. I was hoping, if anyone could’ve made it out of the life, it would’ve been you guys,” Troy says mournfully, the disappointment seeping through his tone. “I heard of people further up north that can erase your past. Now, I don’t know if it’s true but—” He pauses, biting at his lower lip. “You and Jeff don’t have any records. Both your parents are gone, and you ain’t been taking loans and whatnot, so nothing’s really tying your faces to your names.”

“Bounty posters,” Abed mentions, but Troy waves that off.

“They don’t do it like they used to. Bounties are localised now, so even if you was wanted in the state of Texas, they won’t be looking for you in Santa Fe,” Troy tells him, and explains before Abed could even ask how he knows that, “They checked me in Tulsa and I was clean, even though I had posters of my face all over Texas. Their databases ain’t as smart as they think.”

Abed mulls over that for a moment before nodding, looking down at his lap. Troy grasps his forearm, gentle and familiar in touch. “Y’all think on it. I hear Colorado’s nice this time of year.”

Later, when Abed gets into bed with Jeff, the sun beginning to break through the sky, he thinks about it until Jeff’s arms wrap around him, and he falls into a deep sleep, the burdens of that night weighing heavily on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall! thanks for tuning into this episode of lakay goes fucking nuts for jabed cowboy au. hope yall liked it!
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	2. The Way it Goes

Breakfast is a silent, slow ordeal.

They all sleep in until nine in the morning, and Abed gets up first. He pads downstairs and gets to preparing breakfast, mind strangely empty even if his heart felt a little heavier in his chest. He cooks three eggs and toasts two slices of bread for each of them, an easy meal that doesn't require much thought. Jeff comes down as he finishes cooking, making his presence known from his footfalls and stretching noises and kissing the back of Abed’s neck. He heads straight for the percolator and makes coffee, throwing the grounds out afterwards just as Abed puts the plates on the table. Troy comes down then, yawning and joining them at the table.

No one says a thing. It’s not often the house is completely silent when Troy’s around, but no one seems to be in the mood to talk yet. Abed focuses on eating, tired eyes reflecting a fairly blank stare. Jeff is sipping his coffee, similarly tired eyes focused on a detail in the wood of the table. Troy is looking between them, waiting for someone to say something but not wanting to say anything either.

Troy excuses himself ten minutes later to go to the stables, wanting to check in on his horse. Jeff looks at Abed while the latter looks at his empty plate, still not saying anything.

“I’ve thought about it,” Abed begins, throat a little scratchy from having not spoken in a while. “Even if it’s— hard, I know we have to leave,” He says, poking his fork at a crumb on his plate. “I’ll miss this.”

“We’ll always have a part of this place in us, even if we leave it,” Jeff says sincerely, and finds himself believing it. “I wish we had more time, but we’ll always remember this place.” He reaches across to hold his hand out, a hopeful look on his face. “We’ll always have each other.”

Abed looks at him then, smiling a little wetly. “That’s really sappy, even for you, Winger,” He tells Jeff, and reaches across to hold his hand.

“It’s just the truth, Nadir,” Jeff replies, smiling back at Abed. It’s a start.

They spend the day deciding on things. Troy doesn’t really involve himself in the conversation, opting to read the comic books Abed had stacked in their book shelf. They agree that they can’t bring everything, and should only bring the essentials. They know they’d be traveling for days, likely weeks on end until they get to Colorado, where Troy will be ahead of time. Troy claims he knows a man there who can help them, an influential yet eccentric man in his 60s who would take a liking to them. From there, they’ll find a place to stay in temporarily, before moving on to—

“Canada?” Jeff asks, a little confused and feeling out of the loop. “You mean, we’re leaving the country?”

“Yes,” Abed replies, pointing at the spot of the map labelled _Calgary._ “When we have our new identities, crossing the border won’t be an issue. It would make sense to settle down in Canada, where we don’t have any criminal backgrounds. That makes a journey back to Texas much longer and more risky, but we wouldn’t need to come back if we just stayed there.”

“I understand, I just...” Jeff trails off, holding his chin in his hand. Abed recognises this as his hesitant posture, which is usually because of a deeply personal reason. “Won’t you miss here? I mean, you know, being in America?”

“Jeff has never left Texas,” Abed explains to Troy, who nods in understanding. Jeff sighs as he nods, used to his straightforward and blunt way of speaking. Abed looks at him then. “Of course I will. I was born and raised here, and even if I wasn’t, I still would want to stay,” Abed says, “But we need to leave Texas and go somewhere they’ll never find us. They don’t have jurisdiction to operate in Canada, so as long as we get our false identities, we’ll be fine there.”

Jeff contemplates this for a while, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “It’s as good a plan as any. Okay. Canada. What then?”

Abed smiles slightly, even when his heart gives a little twinge. Leaving the country wasn’t his first or fifth choice, but it was for the best. “Then... we’re free. What we do there is something we’ll have to figure out when we get there, since neither of us know anything about Canada, but I’m sure it’s not too different from here.”

“They’ve got tons of moose up there. It’s like moose central,” Troy tells them in an attempt to lighten up the mood. It works somewhat, causing Jeff and Abed to both smile when they look at each other.

Packing takes them a good long while. They’ve decided to leave tomorrow when they wake up, so Troy bids them farewell and gets going, saddling up and riding out to get to Colorado before them. When he leaves, Jeff and Abed hold each other for a while on the couch before they finally get started on packing.

“So, we can’t afford to pack heavy, right? I was thinking we could limit it to our saddlebags and a strap bag,” Jeff says, looking through his drawer and taking out a few clothes.

Abed hums noncommittally. “You still remember the saloons and hotspots in this state, old man?” He teases, grinning when Jeff lobs a ball of socks at him.

“Shut up. You ain’t much younger than me, ‘course I remember,” Jeff grumbles, but he lacks a certain tone in his voice that shows he’s serious. He continues to fold clothes in a space-conserving manner. “I know Troy said a lot of things, but we still oughta be careful in New Mexico. It ain’t that far from Texas, and I hear a gang called the El Materdors—”

 _“El Matadors,”_ Abed corrects.

“The El Matadors— wait, how’d you know that?”

Abed smiles and stands next to Jeff, looking at him with fondness and affection, and also disbelief at how slow he can be sometimes. “We live together out in the middle of nowhere, Jeff. We get the same news.” He then leans in and kisses him, melting into him almost as soon as he reciprocates.

It’s been awhile, even for them. Realistically, it’s only been a week since they last had each other, but in their defence, it was a particularly long and tiring week. Jeff goes easily when Abed pushes him back against the bed, keeping his lips locked with Jeff’s even as he straddles him and pins his arms down, exactly like how he knows they both like it.

The kiss turns into multiple wet kisses, and slow and sultry escalates into hot and messy, with Abed taking the lead as he kisses Jeff’s jaw and neck, fixated on a spot in his jugular that always gets him singing. He relishes in the half moan, half whine he gets in response, just as he grinds down against Jeff’s crotch.

“Abed,” Jeff groans, as the man in question kisses his stubble and hums to show his awareness. “I need you to— to fuck me _right now,_ or I swear to _god_ I’ll explode.”

“Impatient,” Abed chides, using the tone of voice he knows Jeff thinks about often. It has a hard quality to it that’s different from his normal voice, something that Jeff openly appreciates as he arches his back to give Abed’s wandering hand space to rake his nails down Jeff’s back. In truth, he’s just about as impatient as Jeff.

“Come on, cowboy,” Jeff pants out with a grin, desperate even before they really got started, “Show me what you’ve got.”

Half an hour later, satisfied, Abed lights a cigarette, taking a puff and moving the ashtray from the nightstand to beside him. He sees his shirt at the foot of the doorframe, wonders how they threw it that far, and thinks he’ll miss this house. He blows out the smoke and taps his cigarette against the ashtray, leaning on the pillow in his side.

“Think I’ll miss the bed most in this house,” Jeff mutters, face down into the pillow and his back to Abed. He turns and looks at Jeff, inspecting his nail-scratch red and lightly bruised back with pride, along with the way his hair flicks to opposite sides. He looks beautiful in any way Abed sees him, but right now, this view of Jeff is his favourite. “It won’t be the same doing this in a tent.”

“Mmh, no, it won’t be,” Abed agrees, stubbing out his cigarette. He adjusts a little so he’s holding Jeff in his arms, legs twining with each other. “We don’t need a bed for anything, my heart. We’ve got each other.”

Jeff twists around so he’s facing Abed, eyes staring into his with love and affection. He cups Abed’s cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss, slow and steady, losing each other in the sensation. Abed tastes of tobacco, which Jeff used to remark bothered him, but in this moment, neither of them say anything.

By the time they got up out of bed, it was already eleven and they still had to keep packing, so both of them get up, get dressed, and start putting things where they need to go. Clothes are put in a suitcase Abed found under a pile of unused clothes, guns unearthed from under the floorboards, and miscellaneous little bits and pieces put into their separate bags. When he opens their cabinet, he searches for more things to put into their bags when he sees something glint in the corner of his eye.

He looks at it for a second before reaching out to pick it up, feeling the familiar weight of it. It’s his old pair of spurs, a slightly rusted steel grey with a customised floral pattern engraved into it, one of the first things he ever bought for himself using money he ‘earned.’ It jingles in his hand when he flips it over, sees the initials _A.N.,_ and smiles to himself.

He’d be back on the road, not as the gunslinging vaquero everyone knew him as, but as Abed Nadir, a man trying to escape his way to freedom with the man he loves. He contemplates the spurs for a moment, and decides to put it back in the corner he found it in, smiling slightly to himself as he keeps looking for things they need.

He rejoins Jeff in the living room some time later, just as Jeff is neatly placing Abed’s collection of comic books on the coffee table. Then, he reaches into the chimney of the fireplace and feels around for a moment before grabbing something and taking it out. In his soot covered hand, he holds a stack of cash.

Jeff stands up and counts it quietly, nodding in approval when he finishes counting. He looks at Abed with the same expression. “Everything’s still there. We’ve got about four thousand on us, which should be enough to get us to Colorado, get us some help there, and head on to Canada.”

“Good. I’ll finish packing up down here, you go talk to that lady in town that’s been wanting to buy our chickens.”

Jeff snorts. “Ol’ Betty? She’s only trying to get me to sell to her so she can talk me into marrying her daughter.”

“Then be a pretty boy to get a good price and maybe I will,” Abed says, kissing him on the cheek as he turns to pack his stuff into his bag.

“You’d marry me off to a friend’s daughter for a better price on chickens?” Jeff asks, laughter in his voice. “You are _really_ something else.”

“Jeff Winger won’t exist soon, or at least, he won’t exist in Canada soon. I doubt she’ll find you there, and by the time we get there, she probably would’ve gotten someone else to marry her girl,” Abed replies, voice level even as he grins. Jeff lightly kicks his boot as he walks away, small sounds of chuckling coming from him as he walks out the door.

The rest of the day goes pretty smoothly. Jeff comes back a few hours later, carrying a bottle of scotch and a wad of cash in his hands. He finds Abed napping on the couch, sprawled across it like how he usually does. When Jeff shuts the door, Abed stirs and wakes up, blinking a few times before he says, “You’re back. How’d it go?”

“Really well. I told Betty that we was moving on to Boston so we could be closer to your folks, and you know how she is, so the word got out as soon as I left her place, and Jamie and some of the other boys at the saloon pitched in and got us this. Told me to send their regards to you, and that they’ll miss you. Didn’t say nothin’ to me, though,” He grins, planting a kiss on Abed’s forehead. Abed laughs at that, taking the bottle and putting it on the dining table. “I told her we’d be needing the money in advance, but that she can come by tomorrow with her boys to take the chickens. She added in a little extra when I told her we’d be leaving for good, and got her girl to come down and say goodbye to me.”

“Was she already wearing a wedding dress with her makeup running as she stared at you, betrayed you’ll be running off without her?” Abed teases, coming back to the living room to sit next to him. He puts his legs on Jeff’s lap, stretching them out as Jeff rests his hands on top of his legs.

“No, as much as I know you wished she’da done that,” Jeff says, lightly pinching his leg, “She didn’t look like anything, really. Relieved, probably. She had a friend over, Mary-Beth I think, Jackson’s kid. Seemed real close, so I ain’t surprised she weren’t interested.”

“I hope it takes them less time to realise than we did,” Abed responds, stretching and wincing slightly when he hears his back pop. “We were a couple of fools.”

“We’re _still_ a couple of fools, Abed, just with a little more experience.” Jeff pats Abed’s leg and stands when Abed moves them aside. “Is everything good to go?”

“Yup. Everything we could need, I packed into our bags. I put a quarter of the money into our bags so it ain’t too strange, but just in case, I sewed a layer on one of my jackets with that extra fabric I never got to use, and put the money there. Two men carrying a thousand between ‘em is still suspicious, but better than carrying two thousand each,” Abed explains, pointing to the suitcase when he mentions the jacket. “I oiled and cleaned the guns, and checked on Diana and Cooper some time ago. You sure that you’re alright with riding Cooper? You and Diana know each other more, and you’ve ridden her before, so you should be alright with her gait—”

“Abed,” Jeff interrupts him, placing a hand on his arm, “I’m sure. Diana’s your girl, and I know Cooper ain’t my boy, but I know I oughta get used to him. His canter’s like getting kicked in the teeth but he knows my moods, smart as he is, like—” He pauses, looking away with a long look in his eyes. He breathes in and out. “Like Polly. I’ll be fine with Cooper, love.”

Abed offers him a small but sad smile. It dawns on him then, how fast time passed them by, how only a few weeks ago, Polly was still trotting around, following Jeff across the paddock and rolling around in the dust with Cooper after she’d just gotten a bath. He brings Jeff in for a hug, rubbing his back as Jeff sighs sadly, holding Abed.

“So we don’t end on a depressing note, what say you and I open this bottle of scotch as a celebration for what we got done today?” Jeff asks him, putting on a little smile. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, coming back with two glasses and the bottle of scotch.

Abed takes the proffered glass after Jeff pours scotch into it, smiling at his lover. “To a new future.”

“To Canadian moose,” Jeff replies, grinning when Abed does and clinking their glasses together, downing the scotch in one go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess this is closer to a rdr au than a western au, but honestly, rdr made the western genre a little more interesting to me, so who can blame me, really?
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	3. A Short Stay in an Insignificant Town

The next morning, before the sun begins to rise, Abed stands outside the house and looks at it one last time.

He sees the parts of the house that have significantly aged, like the way the off-white colour became closer to sandy yellow than white, and the way the balusters were slightly crooked, and the way the doorknob’s original brass colour turned copper. Abed plays with the flap of his belt as he commits the appearance of the house to memory.

He remembers the first day, when they stood at that very spot he stood in now, looking at the house, their  _ home. _ He remembers turning to Jeff with tears in his eyes that he won’t let fall, then seeing Jeff’s own watery eyes, and the both of them smiling through the tears. They finally had a home, a place where both of them belonged, something they’ve always wanted even before they knew they wanted it, and now they were leaving it behind.

He hears Jeff walk up next to him after having adjusted the tack on Diana’s back. He puts a comforting hand on Abed’s shoulder, a silent message. Abed turns to look at him, locks eyes with him, and smiles. They go over to the horses, swinging up into their saddles, and with one last look at the house, they go on their way.

They don’t say anything for a little while, long enough that the house has shrunk in the distance. Side by side, they ride together at a slow pace, before they kick their horses into a trot, and they’re off.

“Hey, do you remember when we first got Cooper?” Jeff asks Abed, the horse in question perking up at the sound of his name. Jeff pets his neck through his dark mane, smiling down at him.

Abed chuckles softly at both the sight and the memory, nodding. “I still don’t regret any of what happened that day.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jeff huffs, playfully glaring at him. “You weren’t the one watching his husband get hit on by a rodeo girl ogling him while you finalised the payment.”

“I liked the attention, and she kind of cared about the horse too,” Abed says, a smile on his face. He knows Jeff doesn’t know that he’d turned the girl down three times in the same conversation, and that she ended up actually just talking to him about Cooper, having realised her attempts failed. “I like it when you call me that.”

“My husband?” Jeff repeats, smiling at the almost shy way Abed nods. “Well, it’s true in every way but legally, but when’ve we ever cared about what they thought?”

They had the wedding at home, a year after they built the ranch. They’d already been living like a married couple to the point that nothing much changed after it, except the random moments one of them felt like referring to the other as ‘husband’ or ‘spouse.’ They’d sent invitations to their closest friends, the only ones that knew of the reality of their relationship. Troy and Annie were there for the ceremony (which was really just them reading vows to one another while Troy, dressed in priest robes, ‘officiated’ the wedding) while Bobby, Maggie, and Pavel— a Polish accountant Abed had been friends with since before he and Jeff met— all sent their regards to them in letters.

It was short and sweet, and one of the most special days of their lives. The platinum band on Abed’s ring finger and the gold band on Jeff’s were reminders of it.

“Not once,” Abed replies, mood significantly better. He twirls Diana’s mane around his fingers, huffing a laugh when she snorts. “You think one day they’ll let us?”

“Us, specifically? No, not at all,” Jeff says, something like disappointment in his tone. “This world’s changing, but not for us kinda men. It ain’t changing for pretty much anyone that ain’t a _normal_ white man, so I don’t see a legal wedding for us any time soon.”

“It’s nice to hope,” Abed hums, thinking about how people like Annie and Troy (and even himself) go a longer way to gain respect than people like Jeff. He thinks about how he’d been relieved that Jeff didn’t turn out to be like the men that saw him as lesser for the colour of his skin when they first met. “For what it matters, I’m happy being your husband.”

Jeff grins at him, an expression Abed could never get tired of seeing. “That’s all that matters to me.”

They ride on without much else happening, finding solace on the open road and in each other. It’d been too long since the last time they rode out like this, and Abed finds that he missed doing this, even if it was for more permanent reasons now. He thinks about whether Canada’s all cold, being so far up north. He thinks he’d like to experience snow and cool air. He thinks he’d be happy anywhere Jeff was. He thinks he’d rather not get too close to a moose.

It’s around sunset by the time they stop at a town called Willowson, a quaint little town at the fringes of west Texas, closer to the border of New Mexico than their home. It’s a fairly nondescript town, with a freshly-painted saloon and a few folk standing about, but upon arrival, they know they’re instantly unwelcome.

“Is there something on my face?” Jeff asks quietly, seeing the nasty stares on people’s faces as they ride in. Abed shakes his head, trying not to look at the people openly giving them the stink-eye. He’s used to this treatment from others, since not many people take to a brown man with a gun easily, but Jeff receiving the same treatment usually meant that it was something more than that.

They hitch up outside the saloon and dismount, Abed feeding Diana some beets as Jeff does the same for Cooper, then they both walk in. Immediately, they feel scrutinised with more than a few pairs of eyes staring at them as they approach the bar. The bartender, a dark-skinned man with grey in his dark curls, barely acknowledges them as they walk in, only looking up when they near the counter.

“What you want?” The bartender asks boredly, leaning on the counter. He looks at the both of them, his frown deepening when he does.

Jeff looks at the bartender for a moment, a confused but guarded look on his face, before looking at the shelves of liquor. “Whiskey, please.”

“The same,” Abed says when the bartender looks at him, who then turns to get the bottle from the shelf. Abed locks eyes with Jeff for a second before he looks back at the people observing them. It’s unnerving to be watched by so many people, and while he can’t really read their expressions, he knows they’re not pleasant.

“You mind me asking, what’s their problem with us?” Jeff questions the bartender, raising a brow when he does. The bartender sets their glasses down in front of them and pours them both a drink, just as Jeff places a dollar on the bar. The bartender takes the dollar without a word, before looking at Jeff with a hard gaze.

“I  _ do  _ mind. I ain’t tellin’ you what my patrons got against you,” He replies, crossing his arms. Abed decides he does not like this town at _all._

“Right,” Jeff mutters, drinking from his whiskey. Abed keeps his mouth shut, wary of everyone in this room. An old instinct comes back to him that makes him position himself against the bar, with the bartender still in view while also having most of his left side covered. He sees something similar happen to Jeff, who adjusts in a way that’s so minor no one else would’ve noticed, keeping Abed’s right side in view while simultaneously putting his resting hand close to his holstered revolver.

Jeff looks at the bartender, keeping his face unbothered and unreadable. He sips from his whiskey, before throwing it all back. “You got rooms?”

“Nah,” The bartender responds, hand slipping lower to below the bar. Abed feels the tension spike, just as someone stands slowly in his peripheral vision. “Marjorie at the inn might have some.”

“Thanks for your time,” Abed says, keeping his voice emotionless as he finishes his whiskey and walks to the door. Abed keeps his hand close to his revolver as he leaves, chin held high to betray nothing. The inn is across the saloon, slightly more worn down than the rest of the buildings in the town.

“That was strange,” Jeff tells him, keeping his voice low. Abed nods and doesn’t say anything more, glancing at Jeff once before he crosses the street and enters the inn with Jeff behind him.

There’s an elderly lady writing something in a notebook when they enter the lobby. She looks up at them when the door shuts, face breaking out into the first smile they’ve seen since they arrived.

“Hello, welcome!” She greets cheerily, adjusting her glasses as she waves them over. Jeff and Abed approach her, the latter feeling suspicious of her welcoming attitude compared to the rest of the townsfolk. “Welcome to Willowson! I’ll hazard a guess that it’s your first time here, which I’m sure it is, since I been working here my whole life and I ain’t ever seen you two!”

Jeff flashes a charming smile as Abed glances at him. Out of the two of them, Jeff is definitely the more charismatic and people-smart, so he lets him talk the both of them into and out of situations, including now. “Yes, right you are, we’re new here! We’re childhood friends, on our way to check in on my ma up in Oregon.”

“Aw, ain’t that nice! Well, I hope y’all enjoy your time here,” She says, before holding out a hand with a kind smile. “Oh, my name’s Marjorie! Marjorie Williams, proud proprietor of the Williams Inn. It’s nice to meet you...?”

“Tommy Sharp,” Jeff introduces, taking her hand and shaking it. She looks expectantly at Abed. “This is Teddy Johnson. He don’t talk much, but he’s got a heart of gold, ain’t it so, Ted?” He grins for effect, patting Abed’s shoulder. Abed keeps his face emotionless, playing unaffected as Jeff pats him.

“Teddy and Tommy, now, ain’t you two just  _ adorable?” _ Marjorie coos, clasping her hands together and causing her glasses’ beaded straps to jingle. Abed thinks those must be heavy. “Now, I’m sure y’all ain’t just here for a social call. You’ll be wanting rooms, right?”

“Right you are, ma’am,” Jeff nods, a practiced smile on his face. “Well, I was hopin’ you’d sate some of my curiosity, too,” He adds, shifting on one foot to the other to lean closer, almost conspiratorial. “This town’s... a little strange, if you’ll forgive my wordin’. They don’t seem to take well to strangers, not like you do, and I was wondering if that was ‘cause of something we did, or something that happened...?”

Marjorie chuckles a little, waving her hand dismissively. Abed watches her carefully, the way she swallows thickly before responding, along with the way she blinks just five too many times. “Oh, don’t mind them! It ain’t nothing y’all done, this town just don’t get too many visitors, so it’s normal that they get a little cagey. I’m sure they won’t make it an issue!”

Abed taps Jeff’s thigh twice, and Jeff switches trajectory and drops the suspicion in his face and tone. He smiles a charming smile and nods. “I see. Well, thank you for tellin’ us, I thought Teddy and I here were in trouble!” He laughs, before he’s sliding the fare towards Marjorie. “We’ll take two rooms, then.”

Marjorie smiles bashfully, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve only got the one room.”

Jeff pretends to be disappointed, sighing heavily and looking at Abed. “Well, ain’t that a shame, brother. Tell you what, you can take the bed, as a treat for lettin’ me drag you all the way out here all for my old ma.”

Abed simply nods, looking away as Marjorie seems content with the exchange, taking half the money Jeff had put on the counter as he pockets the rest. She writes something in her notebook and hands them a key. “Here you go! You’re in room two, second one on the right from the stairs. I hope y’all enjoy your stay!”

Jeff carries their suitcase as they make it up the stairs, finding their room quickly. Abed unlocks the door, letting Jeff in before he closes it, and locks the door behind them.

“She’s hiding something,” Abed tells Jeff, clearing his throat before he does. “She got nervous when you asked about the town. There’s something strange going on here.”

Jeff nods, pursing his lips as he scratches his chin. “I felt like something was going on. You think they know who we are?”

Abed thinks about this for a moment, putting his bag aside and hanging it on a chair in the corner of the room. “No, I don’t think so. I didn’t see any posters of us, but... I don’t know. It might be something else entirely.” He moves to sit on the bed, taking his hat off and putting it on the empty nightstand. Jeff mirrors the action on the other nightstand, before going over to Abed and sitting next to him.

“You remember that inn in Longview?” Jeff asks him with a smile, to which Abed immediately laughs.

“How could I forget? That was the longest day of my life,” Abed replies, putting a hand on Jeff’s thigh. Jeff leans closer into his space when he does. “I never knew an innkeeper could talk for so long, and so  _ loudly, _ too.”

They leave the next day, checking out of the inn so quickly they’re on their horses by the time the sun rises. Abed remembers how everyone looked at them the previous day and wonders if he somehow dreamt it all, because people greet him and smile at him when they ride through the street to head north. One look at Jeff dismantles that theory, who looks so visibly confused that he would’ve been able to read it even if he didn’t know Jeff intimately.

“Am I going crazy or were these people close to shooting us yesterday?”

Abed nods, looks at Jeff with a frown. “Something’s going on here. We should get out of here, and quick.”

As they near the northwestern exit of the town, a man stands up from a seat outside of the general store, smiling at them. He looks different from the rest of the townsfolk, dressed in prim, tailored clothing colour-coded in maroon, white, and grey. He sports an impressive moustache and looks to be about in his 50s. Abed finds his red-strapped bowler hat the article that brings his whole getup together.

“Good morning!” He greets brightly with an English accent, waving a gloved hand. Abed glances briefly at the pistol strapped to his waist as he and Jeff come to a stop, their horses nickering at them.

“Mornin’,” Jeff greets, ramping up his accent once more. “Is something the matter, sir?”

“Oh, not at all,” The gentleman laughs, placing a hand against his round stomach. “I was just fixing to ask who you two are! My family is from here, even if I find work in the city, and I wanted to know what brought you here,” He says, before tipping his hat. “Oh, where are my manners, Lucius Fillmore! At your service.”

“Tommy Sharp, this is my partner, Teddy Johnson,” Jeff tells him, gesturing at Abed. His movements seem a little stiffer than usual. “Well, obviously we ain’t from here, just passin’ through. On our way to Oregon, actually. We was gonna check on my ma.”

Lucius nods, eyes too happy and smile a little too off-putting. “Ah, I see! Well, I wish you luck on the road! You both take care of yourselves, I hear it could be treacherous.”

Jeff tips his hat at him as they leave, the two exchanging glances as they go. Abed knows what Jeff’s about to say before he even speaks.

“What the  _ hell _ is wrong with that town?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels like a filler chapter but i swear it gets more interesting
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	4. Blessed are Those who Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been kinda spacing the updates out so i could have time to go through everything again before the next date. after this update, i'll likely post the next chapter in 5 days. thanks for bearing with me!

New Mexico isn’t as different as Abed thought it would be.

Abed isn’t exactly sure what he expected, but the desert and the sand dunes and the thick, humid air were as familiar to him as the grip of his revolver to his fist. If it wasn’t for the large, wooden sign they passed by that greeted them with a  _ WELCOME TO NEW MEXICO, _ then Abed would likely have never realised they’d left Texas.

They’ve been on the road for four days and six hours, according to his memory and the pocket watch Jeff had purchased for him as an anniversary gift. The platinum watch, made of the same metal as his wedding band, listed time in a unique way, with a rotation of numbers that shifted rather than the usual analog clock.

“Cost a fortune, but you’re worth more than any price I’d pay,” Jeff had told him then as he set the watch down on the dining table, and Abed had been so overcome with gratefulness and passion that they couldn’t have made it to the bedroom, even if they wanted to.

He smiles at the memory as he glances at the pocket watch, just as the minute passes and the watch shifts a seven in place of the six. They’re resting for now, leaning against a tree for shade as Diana and Cooper grazed comfortably on a patch of green in the desert. It reminds him somewhat of the first time they sat together like this, with Jeff’s head on his lap and his hand running through his sandy-coloured hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeff murmurs, smiling up at Abed. He glances down at him, smiling a little bashfully at having been caught as he looks at Jeff’s nose. It crinkles as dust blows by, a motion Abed watches with great interest.

“I was thinking about the first time we sat like this,” Abed replies, watching as Jeff grins up at him. “I know, I know, I’m a sentimental old fool, but it was similar to how we are now.”

“On the road, covered in dust, in love, with your fingers in my hair?” Jeff lists as he inclines his head slightly for a better angle. Abed rolls his eyes playfully.

“We were covered in grass and dirt, I’ll have you know,” Abed tells him, letting his nails rake across his scalp. Jeff shudders at the touch. “And my hand was only in your hair so I could do this.” He grasps lightly at Jeff’s hair to lift him enough that Abed can lean down and kiss him, soft and slow, as if savouring the moment. Jeff sighs contentedly into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

Abed licks his lips when they part, tasting some of the jerky both of them had earlier in the day. He remembers a time when Jeff had mostly tasted of scotch or moonshine, a dark period during their friendship when both of them had everything going wrong. He remembers the crippling emptiness he felt during those months, where he didn’t know where Troy was and hadn’t heard back from him in what felt like forever, and where Jeff fell into the bottle after a devastating encounter with his father.

He remembers a mostly one-sided screaming match, long before they realised they loved each other and decided to settle down together. Jeff had told him in vicious words that he needed to get over Troy leaving, stumbling over his words and reeking of whiskey. Abed thought it was Jeff projecting his feelings towards his father onto Abed’s feelings towards Troy, and tried to calm him down despite the hurt it caused him to be reminded of it. Then Jeff said some horrible words, and Abed had been so repulsed by him in that moment that he took off and didn’t show his face for weeks.

It had taken Jeff tracking him down at a shady saloon in the middle of nowhere after almost a month of not seeing each other to patch things up, in a very emotional confrontation that Abed still finds himself appalled with due to his unstoppable tears and gross sobbing. Right then and there, Jeff decided to stop drinking excessively, cutting down in the following weeks from a bottle a day to a glass once in a while. Then, a month after they patched things up, Troy came back from his travels in southern Mexico, and it all fell into place.

He wonders why he thinks of this now.

“You know, it’s going to be six years since you last got blackout drunk soon,” Abed mentions, still staring at Jeff. He looks pleasantly surprised. “I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Jeff tells him with a lovesick expression. Abed has seen this face on him so many times that, even with his inability to read others’ expressions, he knows exactly what Jeff’s feeling, physically and verbally expressive as he is.

“We should go, we’re burning daylight,” Abed says after a while, kissing Jeff’s nose before he urges him to get up. Jeff rises from his spot, stretching his back and wincing at the popping sound it makes. Abed gets up, patting his jeans down as they get going.

A few minutes after they get back on the road, Jeff asks, “What do you wanna do when we get to Canada?”

Abed thinks about it. He’d asked himself the same thing before this conversation and found he didn’t have a concrete plan. “I don’t know, really. I know I want to find somewhere to settle, maybe someplace close to a lake for a secure water source.”

“I’ve repaired enough water pumps to last me a lifetime,” Jeff agrees, turning his head to his left to sneeze. He rubs his nose, “I definitely won’t miss all this sand. You think Canada’s got sand?”

“I can’t imagine any place  _ not _ having sand,” Abed replies with a smile, which falls off almost immediately as he hears hooves against the road in the distance. He keeps his head faced forward, mapping out three riders in his head.

One of the riders, a dark haired man with grey in his moustache, matches his and Jeff’s speed, coming up to his right. “Howdy, fellers! Ain’t it a great day?”

Jeff plasters a grin onto his face as he tips his hat at the man, dressed in a washed red poncho and shiny, pointy spurs. “Howdy, sir! It sure is a wonderful day, ain’t that right, Jamie?” He says, looking at Abed.

Abed glances at the man, sees his hand hovering too close to his holster for comfort, and goes along with Jeff’s lead. “‘Course it is. Any day on the road is a good day. Better when it’s quiet, just you and a pal and the world ‘round you.”

The man tsks, shaking his head. His hand grasps the grip of his revolver and aims it at Abed from the hip in a quick but deliberate movement. “That attitude just won’t work for us, partners. See, my associates and I actually ain’t too fond of the road, but we sure as hell are fond of some good whiskey and a night with some girls. What say you and your boy there,” He gestures at Jeff with his gun, who tenses at the sight, “get off your horses and come have a chat  with us, like  _ civilised  _ folk?”

Abed looks at Jeff, a silent conversation going on between them. Jeff nods in understanding, slowing Cooper into a walk before stopping him entirely as Abed does the same. The two men trailing behind them overtake them and come up next to the man talking to them, who seems to be the leader of their little group. Abed dismounts first, followed by Jeff, and the two of them hold their hands up in surrender.

“Y’all smart for this. Mac, Melvin, why don’t y’all relieve these gentlemen of their valuables?” The leader says, as the two men on either side of him, one blond and the other brunet, dismount and approach them. “You be careful with the brown one. Ain’t a free man like him in these parts ‘less he’s a runaway, and that means recovery. We’ll see with the boss if he’s someone we can turn in.”

The blond reaches for Jeff’s pockets just as he mutters, “Oh, shut the hell up,” and quickdraws, finger pulling the hammer back before the blond can even pull his hand away and firing before Abed could realise he was brandishing his revolver. The blond screams in pain as red blossoms on his stomach and splatters against Jeff’s shirt, Abed kicking himself into action with an elbow in the brunet’s abdomen, drawing his own gun and firing a shot into the brunet’s shoulder as he doubles over in pain.

Both men crumple to the ground at the same time, clutching their wounds as Jeff and Abed aim their guns at the leader, who frantically looks back and forth between them.

“Goddamn  _ shit! _ Ya— ya killed ‘em!” He cries in disbelief, as the blond stops moving and the brunet seems to be on his last breaths. Neither men pay attention to them, keeping their guns trained on the leader, who throws his hands up in surrender. The horses next to him freak out, neighing and whining from the noise. “Please, please, let me live! I swear, I ain’t gonna be a problem to y’all, I swear!”

“What do you think?” Jeff mutters, glaring at the leader. Abed contemplates it for a moment, then holsters his weapon. Jeff copies him, staring hard at the now-cowering man. “You get the hell out of here, and you best pray hard we don’t run into you again.”

“O-o’course! Y-you won’t see a hair of me, ever— ever again!” The man exclaims, looking at Abed after he does. He bolts without another word at Abed’s cold expression, kicking his horse into a gallop as the other two horses scatter to the winds.

“Let’s get going before anyone comes snooping,” Abed says, looking down at the corpses at his feet. It had been five years since he last killed anything more than rodents in the kitchen, and yet, he feels nothing. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

They mount up again, shirts splattered with blood but otherwise none the worse for wear. Riding out slightly quicker than originally, they stop to set up camp for the night, the sun having set some time back and bathing the sky in a beautiful orange-violet gradient.

Neither of them say anything as they start setting up, Jeff starting a small fire and Abed pulling their tent up. It’s only when they’re sitting next to each other in front of the fire that Abed talks.

“It’s been a while,” He simply says, finding that he doesn’t know how to word his thoughts coherently. Jeff nods, chewing his lip as he looks into the fire, looking as emotionless as Abed feels.

“I thought I’d feel something, but all I remember was just thinking I was sick of that guy talking.” He pokes at the burning wood with a stick. “Time spent as a decent man ain’t really changed me much.”

Abed scoots closer until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Jeff. “I don’t think that’s true,” He says gently, looking at Jeff’s hands as they move. “I don’t think we were ever decent men, I mean.”

Jeff snorts, which turns into laughter when Abed laughs. They both smile at each other after, warm and comfortable, but not because of the fire.

“I love you,” Jeff suddenly says quietly.

“I know,” Abed replies, grinning before he goes in for a kiss, hands moving to cup Jeff’s jaw. Their hats knock into each other, causing the both of them to laugh as they set them aside, only to return to each other with more ferocity.

Abed’s hands are unbuttoning the first buttons on Jeff’s shirt when Jeff says, “I  _ really  _ don’t wanna stop you right now, but I think it’d be for the best if we go in the tent. I’m not really feeling up to washing sand out of my asscrack.”

“That was one time,” Abed grumbles against his mouth, but complies anyways, getting up and holding a hand out for Jeff. Jeff grins at him, looking between his crotch and the tent, and before he can open his mouth, Abed says, “Make a ‘tent in my jeans’ joke and I  _ won’t _ suck your dick.”

Jeff’s eyes glint for a moment before he makes a zipping motion with his mouth and hand. Abed, finding this unbelievably attractive, hauls him up, kisses him almost violently, and drags him into their tent, the fire abandoned to the sounds of lovemaking and coyote yips in the distance.

In the morning, Abed cooks their breakfast over the rekindled fire, half watching the meat and half watching Jeff pull on a new shirt from inside the tent, covered in dark marks in the shape of Abed’s mouth that stay in stark contrast to the rest of his skin. Abed looks back at the meat in time to flip it over, even if the first side is a little more burnt than the other.

“Good morning,” Jeff greets him, crawling out of the tent and stretching. He plops down next to Abed, who passes him a tin cup of coffee. Jeff takes it in his hands and leans over slightly to press a quick kiss to Abed’s neck. Their mornings, while lacking the structure of a home and ranch chores, remain somewhat the same.

“Any plans today?” Jeff asks, sipping his coffee. Abed hums noncommittally, taking the meat off from the grill and putting it onto a plate.

“We’re not too far from Santa Fe. We could probably make it there by noon, if we get moving now,” Abed tells him as he puts the plate down on the ground next to them, passing Jeff some bread and a fork. Abed cuts into the meat as he says, “It would be nice to go to a general store. We’re running a little low on some supplies.”

“Santa Fe, then,” Jeff agrees, chewing on the bread. “Do you think that guy yesterday told anyone?”

Abed shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think he was honest when he told us he won’t show his face to us anymore.” He takes a moment to chew through the spiced beef. “Maybe he’ll wear a full-face mask.”

Jeff chuckles, “I’d love to see that. You know, we never got his name.”

“Probably something stupid like Michael, Johnny, or Billy. Or Jeffrey.”

“Hey!”

Their journey to Santa Fe turns out to be rather uneventful, with the highlight of their ride being a pack of bison in the distance towards the heartlands. Jeff points them out and they stand there for a few minutes, just watching them graze and mill about peacefully. It reminds Abed of more peaceful times.

They come to an arched sign that reads _SANTA FE, NM_ in bold, white painted letters, and before them lies a town that seems to be past the verge of becoming a city. The ground seamlessly transitions from dusty road to cobble past the entrance, brick buildings lining the streets and windows showing off various items ranging from clothes to weapons to fruits. In the distance, black smog from industrial buildings shrouds the city like a shadow and seeps into Abed’s lungs almost immediately.

He coughs into his sleeve and wonders if this is what a city is supposed to be like. Between the noises of people talking and laughing and screaming, the clopping of hooves against stone, and the thick pressure of the air past the dust, he thinks he doesn’t like cities very much.

“I’ve seen it all,” Jeff mutters, a grim look on his face. Abed shares the sentiment. “Why is it that cities are so...”

“Repulsive?” Abed finishes for him, to which Jeff nods. “I don’t know. I don’t like it here. Let’s just get what we need and go.”

“Agreed,” Jeff says, spurring Cooper into a canter. Abed does the same for Diana, and almost immediately regrets it from the way his skull vibrates with the intensity of her steps along the stone, but he ignores it in favour of getting through the city as best they can.

They pass by a multitude of stores, all varying in wares. A tailor’s shop catches his eye as they pass, the mannequins decorated with all sorts of flamboyant fabrics and feathers. He looks at the people walking by, wearing fancy clothing and walking with canes and jewels. Some of them stare at him with disdain, and he stares back with a frown.

They get to the general store after some time of looking for it, in a city as sprawling as Santa Fe. Jeff handles the talking as usual, sweet-talking the manager as Abed picks out what they need. They try not to dally for long as the manager chuckles at something Jeff says, and offers them a nice discount on account of ‘needing all the help they could get for their pilgrimage.’ Abed doesn’t question it.

“Y’all come back when you’re done with y’all’s journey! I hope your pal keeps his vow of silence, I know that’s important for y’all monk types,” The manager says as he counts the dollars Jeff gives him. Abed suppresses a laugh as he nods sagely.

“Thank you, sir! I do hope we make it out alright, be seein’ ya!” Jeff says, going for the door with a wave towards the manager. The manager waves back, and as Jeff opens the door, he stops dead in his tracks.

Abed grunts as he hits Jeff’s back, not expecting the sudden stop. He’s about to ask Jeff why when he peers around Jeff’s back, and sees seven men, dressed in the same prim, red and grey suits of that Lucius Fillmore, who stands in the center with a pleased yet venomous smile. The other six men point guns at them as people scatter in the distance.

“Mr. Sharp and Mr. Johnson,” Lucius says, the accent missing from his voice, “Or should I call you by your real names?” He steps a little closer as Abed inhales sharply. “Mr. Winger and Mr. Nadir, I think we’re long due for some real introductions.” He stops about a meter from the door, and Abed can clearly see now the glint in his eyes. “I am Lucius Fillmore of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, and as of the Vagabond Act of 1874, we have been hired by the United States Federal Government to track down outlaw gangs, trios, duos, and solos. You, basically.”

“We know who you are,” Jeff responds tightly, his shoulders tense like he’s preparing for a bloodbath.

Lucius grins, his canines showing. “Good, then there’s no need to dally. On account of numerous counts of manslaughter, assault, larceny, robbery, fraud, arson, kidnapping, and not least of all,  _ sodomy,” _ He spits, disgust twisting across his features at the protective way Jeff stands in front of Abed, “I have been instructed to offer you both a chance to come willingly and face the cold steel of justice, or be cut down where you stand.”

He puts his hands into the pockets of his slacks, standing with the stance of a man who  _ knows _ there will be a bloodbath. “So, what’ll it be, Mr. Winger, Mr. Nadir? Your life, or your liberty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooohwie we're gettin somewhere!! and so the violence becomes graphically depicted......
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	5. Blessed are the Meek

As a child, Abed knew he had been plenty strange.

His father had been more patient with him than his mother. He knew that, while his father was certainly not the best husband and had his own flaws, his mother leaving was also some parts his fault. She couldn’t handle raising a child who’d turned out so strange as he is, so she left before the going went and let his father care for him on his own.

Years later, far from his father, Jeff will convince him that those were things out of his control, that being the way he is wasn’t some fault on his behalf. Jeff will tell him that he knows what it’s like to feel like it was his fault, with his father rather than his mother, and to feel inadequate for years after. Then, he’ll say, “But neither of us were worth any less for it. They didn’t want to be in our lives, and that’s their own fault. Not ours. We’re fine the way we are, no matter how much the world wants to change us. We’re  _ free.” _

Abed thinks back to those words now, as he stands behind Jeff and stares down the eyes of their modern Lucifer. Lucius’ too-satisfied grin taunts him, even as he pushes past Jeff to walk out. He hears the hammers of multiple pistols clicking as the other agents cock their pistols at him, coming to a stop in front of Lucius.

He keeps his gaze on Lucius, feeling for his belt. He hears Jeff stop breathing behind him, holding his breath in as he watches Abed closely. Lucius raises a brow at him expectantly, opening his mouth to say something, only for his eyes to widen as he gurgles, staring wildly at Abed.

“We’re fine the way we are,” Abed says emotionlessly as he twists the bowie knife in his hand deeper into Lucius’ stomach and listens to his strangled cry, “Because we’re free.”

In a moment, one of the agents yells in rage as they open fire, Abed letting Lucius slump into him even as the thick wetness coats his hands and arms, pulling him in to use him as a shield. He backs into the doorway, where Jeff begins to use the left side as cover. None of the agents shoot at Lucius, so Abed tosses him aside and retreats into the general store, taking his revolver out. He curses when he realises his repeater isn’t strapped across his back, left behind on Diana’s saddle.

“Oh, Lord above!” The general store manager yelps from behind the counter. Abed turns to him with a sharp glare, and that’s enough for him to bolt out through the backdoor, screaming and crying. Jeff peeks outside and fires a few shots, landing one shot of five in the shoulder of an agent, who cries out in pain.

“Any plans?” Jeff asks hurriedly, reloading his revolver. Abed chews his lip as he runs to behind the cashier counter, spotting the familiar shape of a repeater almost immediately. For once, he’s glad to know the store’s well-armed.

“Only one,” Abed tells him as he gets back in cover, loading the repeater and cranking the lever, “Shoot.”

He takes aim at one of the agents, holding his breath as he lets off a shot straight into his collarbone. The agent lets out a cry of pain as he clutches his neck, before falling back onto the dust. He takes cover as they keep shooting, just as Jeff moves further from the door and busts down the window, landing a skilled shot at the agent directly next to the one that just fell.

Before they can even begin to think that things might be going their way, they hear multiple police whistles ring out as the clopping of hooves come towards them.

“Shit, new plan,” Jeff curses as he moves from his window to the backdoor. “Get the hell out of here!”

Abed goes out the door before Jeff, who slams the door shut as they whistle for their horses. There’s two ends to the alley that the backdoor exits to, both leading out in the street. They look at each other with something like fear.

“Hey!” A voice yells at them, and Abed twists around in disbelief. “Need some help?”

“Annie?” Abed asks, shocked and running high on adrenaline. Jeff looks at where he’s looking and smiles, still breathing hard. “What are you doing here?”

“Let’s just say news travels fast,” Annie replies, grinning as she takes out a shotgun. “We ain’t got time. You boys have raised enough hell for this place. Let’s git!”

They run to her direction, following her just as their horses come towards them, Cooper rearing up slightly as he feels Jeff’s panicked mood. Jeff calms him as Abed saddles up on Diana’s back, patting her neck as Annie jumps up on her own horse’s saddle. Jeff is the last one on his horse as they race away, galloping through the streets of Santa Fe and out into the wilderness once more.

“Over there! Get them!” Abed hears a man yell, likely the police chief. Annie turns left and they follow her as she weaves through the streets of Santa Fe, finally ending up at an exit from a bridge. There are three policemen guarding that exit, armed with rifles that are trained on them when they arrive.

“Shit! Now what?” Jeff asks frantically, taking his revolver out again. Abed realises then that he never put his gun away.

They look at Annie and she rolls her eyes. For a moment, Abed is reminded of her five years ago, burning hot and striving to prove herself. “You two are way out of practice.”

She takes the rifle strapped to her horse and cracks the bolt into place as she fires a shot straight into the skull of a policeman, who slumps over on his horse, lifeless. In the shock that follows, she fires off another direct shot into the policeman on the left, and before the last one can even fire off a shot, another bullet dislodges itself from the chamber and the last one falls off his horse, dead.

Abed and Jeff look at her with surprise and amazement. She’s still the same Annie, if only twenty times better with guns than before. Annie grins at them and winks, before she kicks her horse into a gallop. Sharing an incredulous look that lasts a second, they follow her, riding past the bodies and the crazed horses out into the wild.

No one says anything as they keep riding to throw the authorities off their scent. Abed’s thankful for the silence as he tries to gather his thoughts, the adrenaline dying down as he does. So much has happened in the last hour that even he can’t process as quickly.

They come to a stop by a large tree, Abed being the one to slow down first and hitch his horse there. Jeff and Annie follow suit, hitching their horses as they try to catch their breaths.

“Annie Edison. It is so, so good to see you,” Jeff breaks the silence, going in to hug her. She smiles cheerfully and hugs him back, burying her head into his chest. Abed smiles at the two, heart warm even after the stressful situation not twenty minutes ago.

While Abed and Annie are pretty close, Abed would argue that she and Jeff are a lot closer. Before Abed knew Jeff, they’d already been friends, two lost souls that found a sibling-like companionship in each other. It had taken Abed some convincing from the both of them that they weren’t  _ actually _ blood-related siblings, and even then, Abed never gave up the suspicion. Seeing them hugging reminds him of that fact.

“I’m glad you two are okay. When I heard what happened to Bobby Deadeye, I got worried and sent out a telegram to Troy. He kept me pretty updated after that,” She explains, removing herself from Jeff to go over to Abed, hugging him tightly. “I happened to be by Santa Fe because I was thinking of heading over to Colorado myself, meet you guys there. I’m sure glad I didn’t leave as soon as I stocked up, otherwise I would’ve missed the screaming and gunshots.”

“The fuss wasn’t planned, believe me,” Abed says almost bashfully against her shoulder, “It’s been awhile since we last saw you. What’ve you been up to these days?”

Annie wipes some of the blood from her shirt when she pulls away, but is otherwise unbothered by it. “Oh, y’know, this and that. I’m mostly up north past Colorado, but I went down to Mexico for a while after I last came by your place. It’s like Texas, just with a bit less white trash and a lot more revolutionaries.”

“Sounds like your kind of gig,” Jeff chuckles, leading them both to sit by the roots of the tree. They all sit next to each other, keeping their eyes on the horizon. “Why’d you leave?”

“Just can’t seem to stay in one place,” Annie sighs, adjusting her belt buckle so it isn’t digging into her stomach. “I’ve tried Mexico, Kansas, Washington, even  _ Utah. _ I’ve tried staying almost everywhere by now, but it just... wasn’t right. Settling down just isn’t for me,” She says, before smiling a sad smile at Abed. “I’m real sorry for what happened, by the way. When I heard they started tracking down outlaws, I didn’t think they’d run through us so quickly.”

“Lucius mentioned a Vagabond Act of 1874, over ten years ago. They took their time,” Abed says, even as he takes on a more melancholic quality. He quietly murmurs, “We weren’t long for life. Men like us don’t get to do what we did and live the rest of our lives in peace. We were always meant for this.”

Jeff stays quiet as Annie takes Abed’s hand. “That ain’t true at all. We aren’t good people, sure, but that don’t mean we can’t have happy endings. Politicians steal money from folks every day and they get to die old and fat and rich. Just ‘cause we aren’t working the system doesn’t mean we can’t have a slice of that pie,” She tells him, smiling. “I got a friend up in Denver that told me that. You’d like her.”

“She sounds nice,” Abed agrees, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree. “Hey, you mentioned roaming up north. Do you know anything about Canada?”

“Canada? No, I can’t say I do. I try not to go too far north, it gets real cold there and I’m not really one for that kind of weather,” Annie replies, “Why, you guys thinking of moving there?”

“Sort of, yeah,” Jeff answers, his tone still hesitant. “We’re not exactly welcome in the country anymore.”

“They’re done scouring north from here. If you two just get new documents and forfeit Jeff Winger and Abed Nadir, all it’ll take is a few bribes and favours to make your problems go away,” Annie explains almost nonchalantly, “I’ve done it a few times. No land north of the Chattahoochee knows Annie Edison.”

“Who do they know, then?” Jeff asks, curious.

Annie grins at him. “Caroline Decker, from Corpus Christi.”

They part ways with Annie the next day, having pitched camp by the tree after the sun went down the previous day. She promises to see them in Denver, which Abed knows she’ll keep, and also promises to stay out of trouble, which Abed knows she  _ won’t _ keep. Jeff smiles as he waves at her, before she spurs her horse into a canter and rides away.

“Something about Annie really makes her feel like the sister I never had,” He says, slotting his fingers against Abed’s. They’re clean now, even if they have to wash out the stains on their blood-soaked shirts later on, but those were problems for another day. Abed presses back against him.

“Annie’s sweet in a way you don’t see often from skilled killers and ruthless criminals. It’s refreshing,” Abed tells him, to which Jeff agrees. He lifts Abed’s hand and kisses it, a soft press of lips against his still-bloodstained hand. Jeff’s mouth curls.

“Probably shouldn’t have done that,” Jeff mutters, wiping his mouth. Abed chuckles at him as he looks down at his hand, caking with the browning liquid. “What you did back there was pretty cool.”

“Gut a man viciously and use his body as a meatshield?” Abed questions, raising a brow at Jeff. Jeff shrugs, wide eyes honest as he looks at Abed. He snorts, “I guess it was pretty cool. I haven’t done that since I was twenty-one and more than a cold-blooded murderer.”

“For good reason. It’s messy,” Jeff says, pointing at Abed’s soaked shirt. It looks unsalvageable. “There’s no bringing that back to the blue it used to be. You look like you bathed in a tub of blood.”

“I might as well have,” Abed sighs, before he’s patting Jeff’s waist. “Come on. We should get going, somewhere with a bath, preferably. I’m gonna go change out of this shirt, I shouldn’t have slept in it.”

“You smell like a slaughterhouse,” Jeff agrees, narrowly avoiding Abed’s boot against his shin as he laughs and moves to stomp out the embers of their campfire.

Abed goes through the suitcase, finding an old green shirt amongst his cleaner clothing. He takes off his blood-soaked shirt, grunting in disgust with the way it sticks to his body. His union suit is similarly stained, but it’s a lot dryer than his shirt from being so close to his body, so he simply sighs and pulls the new shirt on, despite the uncomfortable feeling. It sticks to his skin like shit on a horseshoe, a sensation he tries to ignore but fails miserably at.

“Abed? Hey, Abed,” He hears Jeff call distantly, and the ringing in his ears gets louder. He doesn’t realise it when he crumples down to a sitting position, legs instinctively pulling inwards and suddenly shooting out when his knees hit his chest and presses the once-wet fabric against his skin. He hears whimpering and takes a while to realise it was coming from him.

“Can I touch you?” Jeff murmurs in his ear, a worried look on his face that Abed half registers. Jeff is looking at him with the same faultless sincerity, showing his hands, palms facing upwards. Abed shakes his head, and the hands fall away. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit? I’ll still be here, just not next to you.”

Abed looks up at Jeff frantically, shaking his head a vehement ‘no’ as his hands clench into fists. Jeff looks at him worriedly, saying, “Okay, I won’t leave you. I’ll be right here next to you,” before going through Abed’s bag and passing him a medium-sized ridged rubber ball. Abed takes the ball almost instantly, squeezing it and pressing into the ridges as he tries to calm down, only to find it useless. He wants to tell Jeff why he’s like this, but when he tries to open his mouth, it feels like it’s full of rocks and his throat constricts.

Jeff seems to notice that the ball isn’t working and starts coming up with reasons. “Just nod or shake your head for yes or no, okay?” He asks, before he gets to thinking. Abed nods. “Is it something that happened a while ago?” He shakes his head. “Is it something that’s happening now?” He nods. “Is it something on you now?” He nods again. Jeff pauses to look over Abed’s body. “Is it the shirt?” He shakes his head. “Your underwear?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again.

Then, Jeff is reaching over to take Abed’s shirt off, unbuttoning it with deliberate but quick movements as he slides the shirt off, revealing Abed’s bloodstained union suit underneath it. Jeff scours for ideas, then goes over to their supplies and takes out one of their water cans. He takes off his shirt, a lot cleaner than Abed’s, and balls it up into a rag. Abed watches silently as Jeff unbuttons his union suit, revealing the brown stain of old blood on his chest.

“Can I wipe you? My shirt’s made of cotton,” Jeff tells him, holding out the fabric to Abed as if to prove it. Abed touches it anyways, despite knowing which shirt that is ,and feels the soft material against his fingertips, before nodding. Jeff gets to work immediately, pouring water on his shirt and beginning to wipe Abed’s chest, the shirt staining red and brown when he does. Abed watches, transfixed on Jeff’s hands, which he realises aren’t shaking. The fact calms him, for some reason.

“All done,” Jeff murmurs, keeping his voice quiet even though it was just the two of them. Abed releases the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, looking down at his chest, back to the same colour as the rest of his body. Jeff helps him out of the shirt and union suit, gentle yet calloused hands peeling the cloths away until the union suit hangs from his waist downwards. While in no way a prude, Abed now feels too exposed, pulling his arms to his chest as if to hide it. Jeff doesn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want help changing out of your underwear?” Jeff offers, to which Abed shakes his head. He doesn’t want to feel any more pathetic than he already does. “Okay. I’ll find another one for you to wear, and you go change into it, okay?” Jeff affirms, voice gentle as ever. He looks through the suitcase, finding one of Abed’s union suits and giving it to him. Abed takes the clothing, going into the tent to change.

When Abed emerges from within the tent, Jeff looks at him immediately, flashing a small smile at Abed. He’s dressed in his shirt now, the collar of the grey union suit poking out of his shirt’s popped collar. He looks and feels a little better, smiling a similar smile at Jeff, who holds out a hand. Taking it, Abed sits next to him, securing the hat that Jeff passes to him onto his head when he does.

“How’re you feeling?” Jeff asks him, holding his hand. The weather’s too hot for both of them to sit too close to each other, but they keep their hands intertwined.

Abed licks his lips and clears his throat to get rid of the dryness. “Better. Much better. Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Jeff replies, kissing Abed’s cheek. Abed turns just as Jeff begins to pull away, kissing him properly and deeply, as best they can given their angle. He feels Jeff melt into the kiss and go willingly, and Abed wonders how he’d gotten so lucky to deserve a man like him in his arms and in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most epic gamer moment by annie edison
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	6. A New Life Awaits

Eight days and twelve hours since they left home, they made it to Colorado.

Whereas New Mexico wasn’t too far off from Texas, Colorado feels different. The sun doesn’t burn through his clothing, and the wind takes on a chilly crispness, complemented by the green grass and dry heat. A flock of birds pass overhead as they ride past the sign that reads  _ WELCOME TO COLORFUL COLORADO, _ which Abed cracks a smile at.

It had been a long journey from Texas, and while Abed knows it isn’t over and they’re barely halfway to Canada, he hopes this’ll be where Abed Nadir and Jeff Winger disappear, and where they can rebuild their lives from where it had been stolen from them.

“Hey, did we ever decide on new names?” Jeff asks him, pulling him from his thoughts. Abed’s not surprised he’s thinking the same thing. “I trust Troy, but I don’t really know if this guy he knows is the real deal, but... if he is, it’d be good to come prepared.”

“That’s true,” Abed agrees, playing with the leather of his reins. “I don’t want to be stuck with a stupid name. I also don’t want it to be too...”

“White?” Jeff offers, to which Abed nods. He nods along in understanding. “Tommy Sharp and Teddy Johnson aren’t cutting it for me. Neither is John Wilson and Alan Nixon, mind you.”

“I wasn’t thinking about those! Besides, do I look like an Alan?” Abed asks, raising a brow at Jeff. Jeff pointedly looks away with an indignant expression, to which Abed scoffs. “Well,  _ I _ think I don’t look like an Alan. Maybe... Bradley. Or Nathan.”

Jeff hums thoughtfully, playing with Cooper’s mane. The gelding looks pleased with the sensation. “Maybe I could go by... Michael. Do I look like a Michael?” He asks, flashing Abed a smarmy grin. Abed smiles back sweetly.

“You look like an asshole.”

“Michael it is!”

They keep riding until they make it to Denver, just as the sun is setting. In terms of cities, Denver is a lot nicer than Santa Fe, with more trees surrounding it and snow-capped mountains in the distance. Surprisingly, there are no factories or signs of industrial work, the dusk sky clear of smog and putridness. The streets are similarly clean of dirt, and there are a few people still bustling about even after dark. It seems friendlier in a multitude of ways, and Abed finds that he likes it here.

“Let’s go down the main street, maybe we’ll find a place to stay in for the night,” He suggests, watching a carriage pass by. He sees Jeff nod from the corner of his eye, and they get going.

A lot of stores and shops are already closed or closing as the clock strikes six, while stray dogs and cats mill about the streets peacefully. There’s a bridge across a small river that they have to cross to get to the other end of the street, which Abed watches with great interest. They stop for a while to look at the distance the river goes, further than their eyes can see, only moving when a coachman tells them to get out of the way.

They pass by a bustling saloon, too loud for their tastes and likely already fully rented out. They keep going down the street, eventually having to make a choice from left or right. Immediately, they throw rock, paper, scissors, with Abed choosing rock and Jeff choosing scissors. Abed quietly cheers in his victory as Jeff sighs, then follows Abed as he goes left.

The street,  _ Llewellyn St. _ as the sign reads, is a dimly lit street with only the lights of the buildings and apartments along it lighting up the area. A protruding swing sign reads  _ The Red Door _ in black, simple letters on a red painted background, swaying slightly with the wind. Abed and Jeff share a look, the former with his brow raised in question and the latter shrugging and nodding. They hitch their horses at the hitching posts outside the door, next to a sweet looking mare that barely bats an eye at them.

They enter the bar (which actually does have a red door) and find that it’s smaller and cosier than the one down by the main street. It’s not like the bars they typically see in Texas, with multiple floors or an open floor plan. The setup is simple and warm, with a few patrons who look like regulars and a nice setup of pictures and posters of advertisements of things, locations, and people. There’s a small bounty board with multiple posters, all of people Abed doesn’t recognise, and he realises that Troy had been right about the disconnect from the two states. Something in him relaxes at the thought.

“Hey there, you two,” The bartender greets them, waving from behind the counter with a friendly smile. She’s a mature-looking woman with blonde hair and wide eyes, and her smile reminds Abed of taffy. She’s wiping her counter when they approach her. “What can I get you two? We got drinks, ‘course, but we’ve also got some rooms and friendly company and... well, a few more drinks. So, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll have some whiskey, thanks,” Jeff says, pressing fifty cents to the table. She looks at Abed, who shakes his head, before going over to the shelf behind her, plucking a bottle of whiskey and a glass and pouring some for Jeff, taking the fare.

She settles against the counter, a curious smile on her lips. “What brings you two boys to Denver? Don’t give me bunk, either, ‘cause I know you two aren’t from here,” She says, “Drifters are common in these parts, but not too often do they come to my bar.”

“We’re moving, actually,” Abed answers, trying to keep it as vague as possible. The bartender raises a brow. “We’ve been pals for life, he and I, and we mostly go places together ever since my parents and his parents passed. Figured it was time we left Texas.”

Her brow raises further as she looks between them, an obvious expression of  _ ‘I don’t believe you’ _ written all over her face. “Right, y’all are  _ pals. _ If the sky ain’t blue and the grass ain’t green.”

Jeff frowns at her, suspicion on his face. “What do you mean?”

She almost looks bored when he asks that question, pouring herself her own drink. “I mean, you don’t need to hide who y’all are here. I don’t care, and the others here  _ certainly _ don’t care, since Molly and Edith are over there in the corner eating their faces off of each other and no one’s saying nothing.”

Jeff glances at the direction she nods at, and quickly looks away when he does indeed see two women kissing each other passionately, his face heating up. Abed looks at them for a moment and considers just  _ how _ different Texas is from Colorado. He looks back at the bartender, who wears the same neutral expression.

“Is that— common, here?” Jeff asks, stuttering slightly when he does. The bartender flashes him a glare, but keeps her voice level.

“Yes. And if you’re gonna kick up a fuss about it, I suggest you turn around and leave the way you came through.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Jeff hurriedly says, putting a hand up placatingly. He glances at Abed for a moment, who understands immediately.

“You got us figured out right. We’re together, in a romantic way,” Abed tells her and watches her shoulders relax minutely. He finds that a little peculiar, but doesn’t mention it. “How’d you know?”

“I see hundreds of people every week of my life since I opened up this bar, and I know how people look when they’re in love. They look a little dumb, and a lot stupid, but in a good and subtle way. However, you, my friend,” She points to Jeff, “are not subtle at all.”

“It’s not like people are usually looking for it,” Jeff grumbles, to which Abed smiles at him. It warms him to know Jeff looks at him like that, even if, intellectually, he knows he wears the exact same expression.

“See, I thought you’d be the more controlled one, the one who’s more mysterious and shit,” The bartender says to Abed, who looks at her with confusion, “but you’re just in the same way he is. You both look stupid, in a good way.”

“That’s... nice,” Abed replies, unsure of what exactly to say. She smiles then, pouring herself another drink.

“Now, answer me honestly. What are you doing here?” She asks, throwing her glass back. She barely flinches at the taste or strength of the whiskey, which Abed finds himself impressed with. Most bartenders he knows at least savour the taste.

Abed glances at Jeff for a second, who nods. He looks back at the bartender, looking at the middle of her brows. He’s found that not looking directly into people’s eyes helps him, but looking anywhere else tends to offend people, so he looks around or in between their eyes to make them feel more connected to him. The necessity to look at people has always been high on his list of unnecessary and confusing social cues, alongside things like tact and forced kindness.

“Well, we’re not exactly... honest men,” He begins, “Simply put, we’re outlaws. We led bad lives, met each other through it, and decided we wanted out. We knew it was a daydream, but we tried anyway. Tried to go it honestly, like ranching and farmwork, but it didn’t last too long.” The bartender puts another glass on the table and fills it up with water this time, passing it to Abed. He takes the proffered drink and sips from it, then presses a few cents to the bar. “It was a good thing our friend, Troy, warned us. Otherwise, we’d likely have been caught or killed. We’ve been on the run for over a week now, and we’re here in Colorado for business pertaining to that.”

“Hold on, Troy? Not a lot of Troy’s I know in these parts, except the one who mentioned knowing two guys that were illegally married,” She says, pointing at their matching rings. Abed finds that she’s very perceptive and skilled at reading people, which doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should. “You talking about Troy Barnes?”

“Yeah, how do you know him?” Jeff asks, sipping his whiskey again. The bartender smiles at him, seemingly happy to have a mutual friend.

“Every time he’s in town, Troy comes by and stays here for a day or two. Regales me of stories about the wild west, cowboys, shootouts with the law, that kinda thing,” She explains casually, even as Abed’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Keeps me missing those glory days. It ain’t my time anymore, though.”

“Wait, glory days?” Abed asks, sensing a story there. She doesn’t look old, but when she smiles there are crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes, and when she’d been pouring drinks, he notices more than a few nicks and scars and callouses on her hands. She smiles at them, clearly excited that she could tell her own story. Jeff leans in interestedly.

“Yup, glory days. I wasn’t always a bartender, and I wasn’t always a law-abiding citizen of the state of Colorado, neither. I still ain’t, come to think of it,” She says, her hands playing with her beaded necklace. “I used to be like Troy, really. Young but having gone through so much already, so I picked up a gun and started learning how to shoot. My pa would always tell me that it ain’t womanly to know the inner workings of a cattleman, but I learned anyways. Helped me with my issues more than they did, that’s for sure,” She snorts derisively. “I ran with a pack of wolves, back then. Not real wolves, mind you, but the kind of men that’d kill you all the same for their own safety as they would for you breathing wrong. Bad time in my life, but I got out before they could turn me into one of them.

“Eventually, I took off on my own, riding solo and only accepting help when I know I ain’t gotta pay for it. At some point, killing started weighing on my conscience, and I ended up deciding to get out of the life. Kinda like you two, ‘cept it was a lot more permanent for me,” She says, lacking pity in her tone. “I came to Colorado, had my records wiped clean, falsified an identity, and now I’m here. Ain’t no lawmen in this establishment, for good reason.”

“It was that simple? You just changed your name and the old-you was gone?” Jeff questions, brows raised in surprise. Abed feels the same way, looking at her expectantly. She nods with a smile.

“Uh-huh. There’s a forger in town that does that sort of thing, for a very fair price. Whoever I was doesn’t matter anymore, because now, to the rest of the world, I’m Britta Perry.”

“Nice to meet you, Britta,” Abed says, a small smile on his face. He definitely likes her, as he holds out a hand for her to shake. She shakes it firmly, and he knows then that she’s telling the truth. “Why bartending, though?”

“Well, see, I like to drink,” She says, supporting that with another glass of whiskey. “And I like to meet new people. Both things coincide, so I decided to open up a bar. The government here don’t ask too many questions regarding where the money came from if you make small payments at a time and list your employment as expeditioning, so it was fairly simple.”

Abed and Jeff share a look, before Jeff asks, “Who’s this forger you’re talking about? Troy mentioned being able to change your records, and you seem to be a success story.”

“Well, he ain’t a good man, but he’s good at what he does,” Britta says, picking at her cuticles. “His name is Pierce Hawthorne, and before you ask, yes, it is the same one who had been almost successfully assassinated three times by his own father.”

“I don’t think that news got to us in Texas yet,” Abed says, unaware of what the deal with that is. “Where can we find him? Does he just... accept anyone?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘accept’ as much as ‘continuously ridicule in every transaction and act inappropriately with,’” She mutters, “But no one else does his work, so it’s not like we can get rid of him. His father tries that plenty enough and has failed all attempts. Anyways, he has office hours, and since today’s a Saturday, he’s not in.” She fills her glass with water this time, downing it. She coughs when she does, confusing Abed with how she can drink whiskey like it was water and how she drinks water like it’s whiskey. “No one knows or wants to know what he gets up to on the weekends, but if you drop by his office west of Curtis Park on Monday, he’ll be there.”

“That’s his legal job?” Jeff questions. Britta smiles a pitying smile.

“Nope. His office is his room at the retirement center. West of Curtis Park is Rosamund Seniority Living.”

They check into a room after they finish talking with Britta, who swears on her life that she knows exactly what she’s doing. Neither of them ask why she’s saying this, as to avoid that specific line of questioning. They’re tired and they’ve been on the road forever, so they both retire to the bed almost as soon as they get to their room, barely taking their jeans and boots off before they collapse onto the bed.

“This is a lot softer than the bed in Willowson,” Jeff mutters, his face down into the pillow. The room isn’t the best of the best, but it’s simple and sparsely decorated enough to feel fine. There are no tacky lampshades or patterned wallpapers, but Abed would take security over sunflower wallpapers in a town that clearly didn’t welcome him.

“It is,” He agrees, relaxing into the bed. Jeff throws his hand across Abed’s waist and pulls him in closer until they’re chest to chest, Abed tucking his head under Jeff’s chin. It’s moments like these that make Abed happy with the extra inches Jeff has in terms of height.

“G’night,  _ Bradley,” _ Jeff mutters against his hair, emphasising the name. Abed smiles, even if Jeff can’t see it, and slips his cold feet into Jeff’s thighs. He barely flinches.

“Goodnight,  _ Michael.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are gonna be coming a lot slower now as yall might have noticed. thanks for sticking around though
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	7. Home Away From Home

It’s a beautiful Sunday when Abed wakes up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he wakes up feeling light and content.

It’s a sort of strange feeling, considering where he is now. While he enjoys being in Jeff’s arms, he typically prefers it be on their bed, in their room, in their home. Right now, however, he feels fine where he is, be it a rented room at the edges of Denver. It might be coupled with the fact that they have the day to themselves, without needing to pack up and go or worry about things to stock up on.

It’s simply a wonderful day and Abed finds himself appreciating it.

He kisses Jeff’s forehead, which does nothing to rouse him from sleep. Abed considers slipping out of bed, but not having anything to do the whole day does nothing to encourage him to leave the warmth of his husband. Jeff mutters in his sleep, “Yeah, I’ll be up,” without Abed even saying anything. Abed looks at him with fondness and can’t hold back the second kiss to Jeff’s forehead.

Jeff blinks his eyes open, only barely registering anything before he’s smiling sleepily. “Just can’t resist me, huh?” He murmurs, pulling Abed in closer. Abed grins as he wordlessly presses a kiss to Jeff’s neck. “Good morning to you, too.”

Abed still doesn’t respond, not feeling like it was necessary as he kissed Jeff’s neck the way he likes it, causing the man to crane his neck further backwards for more space as he sighs happily. Abed’s hand on Jeff’s waist rubs his sides, lovingly feeling the thickness there that he adores on Jeff, before his hands are dipping lower and lower to the lowest button of his union suit.

“Whoa there, tiger,” Jeff chuckles, but his voice is already taking on a rougher quality. Abed hums against his neck, continuing to kiss along Jeff’s collarbone. A shiver runs down his spine. “If waking up here meant waking up every day to this, I don’t think I’d mind staying here all the time.”

“Then I’ll keep you here forever,” Abed whispers against his skin, which should’ve been strange to say, but Jeff knows his strangeness well enough to know that it really means _I love you, forever._

Jeff doesn’t get a chance to answer before Abed’s hand goes where it wants to go and he’s lost to his own noises and Abed’s own quiet ones.

It’s later, thirty minutes past nine, when Abed finally gets up, stretching and cracking the joints in his neck. He sees Jeff look at him with concern at the multiple cracking noises that come from him, but he’s more loose-limbed and content than anything else, so he lays in the dry patch and smiles up at Abed.

“You heading downstairs?” He asks, looking every bit a lazy cat as he peers up at Abed. Abed pulls on a shirt and smiles at the sight as he buttons it up.

“Yeah. You want anything?” He tucks his shirt into his jeans, then straps his gun belt to his waist. He’s not sure about the breakfast policy at the bar, but he recalls seeing a cafe across the street, dimly lit as it was. He hopes Britta serves coffee, at least.

“No, not really. I’ll be down there in a bit,” Jeff mumbles, pressing his face back against the pillow. Abed looks at the arch of his back one more time before he steps outside of their room, closing the door behind him. He heads downstairs just as Britta finishes cleaning a cup.

“Good morning,” Britta’s voice greets quietly, her voice gritty like she’s spent all night awake. Abed sees her when he rounds the corner, all frazzled blonde hair and a grumpy frown on her face as she pours what seems to be coffee.

“Morning,” He greets back, looking at the pot with interest. “How much for a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t know, some?” She asks, and pauses when she realises the response doesn’t make sense. Abed lets her brain work as she stares at the coffee pot. “Fifteen cents a mug.”

He places thirty down on the counter as she pours coffee into two mugs, just as Jeff comes down with a real case of bed hair. Abed smiles at the sight, something he’s still not exactly used to seeing on Jeff no matter how long they’ve been together.

There had been a time when Jeff Winger was known mostly for his looks, as the dashing rogue cowboy who could shoot well in both ways. It had taken them waking up next to each other every day for Abed to ask why he takes so long in the morning, which resulted in a long day of conversation that had both of them letting the truth fall out freely without worry. They’d gotten nothing done at the ranch that day, but they started working on themselves, Jeff with his obsession with his appearance and Abed with his inability to eat certain things, and that’s as good as it gets.

They’re a long way from then now, with an entire state between them and home.

“Thanks,” Jeff tells him as Abed passes the coffee, nodding at Britta in greeting. He sips from his coffee before sighing. “Do you guys serve breakfast here?”

“No, we do not, and I’m the only person here, so I’m not sure who you’re referring to as ‘guys,’” Britta replies, using air quotation marks on the last word. Jeff shrugs sheepishly as Abed takes a sip. “There’s a sandwich shop down the street, _Shirley’s Sandwiches._ Makes a great club sandwich, and I know the lady who runs it. Sweet woman, if a little... overbearing, in terms of her faith,” She says, sipping from her own mug. “Not to mention that she knows Mr. Hawthorne better than I do.”

“I thought you’d been his client?” Abed asks after a moment of consideration. Britta smiles at him, a knowing look on her face as she stops leaning on the counter.

“I was, only once. He invested in Shirley’s shop, gave her the necessary funding when no one would bat an eye at a housewife starting up a business,” Britta explains, putting her now-empty mug aside. “Rumour is, though, that he and Shirley don’t always get along, on account of him being an annoying bigot and on account for her having self-respect. She might be able to help you out more than me.”

Abed shares a look with Jeff, who shrugs at him. Abed thinks on it a little before he nods and says, “It’s worth a shot. Better than going in blind.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

Abed shakes his head, getting up from his chair. “No, I think I’ve got this. You gonna be fine just staying here?”

“Yeah, you go work your sweet, disarming magic on her. I think I’ll go explore a bit,” Jeff tells him, bringing him closer for a moment to press a kiss to his cheek. Abed smiles at the easy affection and holds Jeff’s hand for a moment. “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Abed says, smiling warmly. He hears Britta mutter, “What am I, a fly on the wall?” before he leaves through the door, closing it behind him and walking over to Diana.

“Hey, girl, how are you?” Abed asks softly, patting her neck as she whickers in response, nudging his shoulder with a slightly-wet snout. He chuckles at the action, carding his fingers through her mane before he’s rounding to the side and mounting up, leading her to the street down to where Britta told them Shirley’s shop was at.

He comes to a stop at a quaint shop with a pink painted sign that reads _Shirley’s Sandwiches_ in swirly handwriting, along with a chalkboard of various menu items written in the same hand. The store itself isn’t too out of the ordinary, with two large windows bracketing a wooden door. The store seems relatively empty, with only a small child at one of the tables and a woman behind the counter.

He enters the shop, the bell chiming as he opens the door. The woman, a dark-haired, middle-aged lady wearing an apron, behind the counter looks up at him and smiles brightly, as sweet and welcoming as the scent of the bakery and the vibe of the store.

“Hello! Welcome to Shirley’s Sandwiches!” The lady greets, and even her voice is sweet to listen to. “I’m Shirley, if that isn't obvious yet. I don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round these parts before!”

“That’s no surprise. I’m new in town, for business reasons,” Abed explains, tipping his hat in greeting. “Right now, though, I’m here for breakfast. What’ve you got here?”

“Oh, that’s nice! Well, I’ve got all sorts of pastries and sandwiches here. Looking for anything in particular?” She asks, gesturing to the shelves. The pastries look freshly baked, some of them still steaming and looking soft yet crispy to the touch.

“I’m not sure, honestly. Why don’t you pick out your favourites for me? I’m sure they’d be delicious,” Abed says, smiling politely as he looks around the shop.

“Aren’t you a sweet thing?” Shirley titters, grabbing a plate and picking out some pastries, two of which Abed can recognise. She also puts a sandwich on the plate, before coming from behind the counter to put it on the table closest to Abed. She smiles when she says, “Well, these are my personal favourites. That’s a pain au chocolat, eclair, danish pastry, egg tart, and my own club sandwich. You gonna be eating on your own, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thanks,” He says when she gives him a knife and fork. “Nice place you got here. How long have you been open?” The words feel foreign in his mouth, like he’s emulating Jeff’s social prowess in his lacking’s stead.

“Oh, almost four years now. My benefactor, Pierce Hawthorne, is a very philanthropic man, and four years ago we collaborated to open Shirley’s Sandwiches,” Shirley says, leaning against the table. “It had always been my dream to open a sandwich shop, seeing as the only other one in this city lacks a certain... flavour.”

“I think I get what you mean,” Abed says, even though he doesn’t. “Do you live close by? This part of town seems nice, from what I’ve seen of it.”

“You could say so! I live just above this place with my husband and my two boys. That’s my son, Jordan.” She points to the boy a few tables away, who waves at Abed. Abed waves back. “My husband, Andre, is at work in the church today, while Elijah’s with him. Usually, I’m not open on Sundays on account of church, but there’d been an issue with one of the sisters breaking the celibacy oath with a sailor and—” She cuts herself off before laughing. “Oh, look at me tattle! You don’t care to hear that, I’m sure. Anyways, how’re you finding my pastries?”

“They’re delicious. I love this egg tart,” Abed says, punctuating it with another bite. Shirley cheers as she passes him a napkin. “What about your benefactor? Does he work here too?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” She replies, “Pierce doesn’t do this kind of thing. He just gave me the money to get started, and I pay back in shares. He’s not the best man, but he saw my dream and helped me live it out, so I can’t say he doesn’t have some good in him.” She puts her hands together, smiling at him. Something feels off, though. “So, what’s your business here in town? You liking it so far?”

“Yeah, it seems like a nice place,” Abed tells her, taking a bite of the eclair. “I’m staying here with my partner at the Red Door, he and I go a long way back. Our business is.. Complicated, but we’re hoping to get help before leaving again. We plan to head north, you see, to Canada.”

“Canada? Well, you’ve got a long ways to go, I’ll tell you that. I had some family go to Canada a few months ago— terrible business, honestly—”

They talk for a while longer, long enough that Jordan tells his mom he’s leaving and goes home, and definitely way longer than Abed intended to stay. Shirley tells him more than he originally asked, but she’s great at conversation without necessarily needing him to reply, so he listens anyways. At some point, though, it gets tiring.

“—and I told him, he needed to think for himself, because not wanting to learn cattle-herding with his uncle isn’t a crime—”

“I’m sorry to cut you off, but I asked about why Pierce Hawthorne lives at a retirement centre,” Abed says gently, exhausted simply from the endless conversation. He takes a bite from his now stone-cold eclair, making note of the darkening, orange sky. Jeff must be wondering where he is.

“Why do you wanna know so much about Pierce?” Shirley asks him, one brow raised as she regards him with suspicion. Abed swallows the pastry he’d been eating, and with a sigh, he puts his knife and fork down.

“My business here has to do with Pierce Hawthorne,” He says, noticing the way she inhales sharply. “Not that kind of business. I— _we_ need his help. We used to be different men, my partner and I, but now we ain’t those. We’ve changed for the better, and we need a way out of all of this.”

Shirley considers him for a moment, discerning whether or not he’s telling the truth. Abed does his best to maintain some semblance of eye-contact with her, until she sighs deeply and nods. “Okay. I believe you,” She says slowly, looking at him with a gentle expression. Abed’s shoulders relax as he releases a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Now that that’s clear between us, ask me what you actually wanted to ask, and I will... try to answer.”

Abed thinks about it for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Is it really... possible? What Mr. Hawthorne does for people running from their pasts?” He asks, uncertainty creeping over him like a cloak. He’d never really had an opportunity to doubt Pierce’s capabilities, but now that he and Jeff are closer to freedom, he finds himself overthinking things again.

Shirley reaches across the table and places a gentle hand on Abed’s, causing him to look up and see her kind smile. He feels comforted looking at her, even if he can’t hold her gaze. “Pierce has a lot of issues, and not too many people like him, but he’s true to his work. I don’t know what you did, and why you’re on the run, but this is a land of second chances. Everyone deserves a chance to right their wrongs, even outlaws,” She tells him, smiling far too knowingly than she lets on. “Now, why don’t you keep eating your sandwich and tell me about your plans?”

He spends more time at Shirley’s store than he expected, the sun beginning to set by the time he’s leaving. Paper bag of sandwiches in hand, he gets on Diana and rides back to the Red Door, where he spots a familiar tobiano mare. He hitches up next to Cindy, giving her a gentle pat on the neck as he strolls into the bar, greeted with the sight of Jeff (more dressed and put-together than when he left) and Troy leaning against the bar and chatting.

“Abed!” Troy greets, a bright grin on his face as he opens his arms wide. Abed hugs him tightly, equal parts relieved to see him safe and relieved he arrived not too long after them. “It’s good to see you, man. How’re you holding up?”

“Better than I thought we’d be,” Abed responds, sliding onto a barstool when they let go of each other. He turns to kiss Jeff on the cheek and puts the bag he’d been holding on the table. He tells Jeff, “I met with Shirley. She’s a sweet woman, kind and well-intentioned but very talkative, gave us these sandwiches too. She says Mr. Hawthorne’s true to his work, and that he’d help us for the right price.”

“Sounds like you had a productive day,” Jeff says, peering into the bag. “I hope that ‘right price’ is within budget, or this’ll all have been for nothing.”

“Mr. Hawthorne doesn’t always take payments in money,” Britta tells them, “Sometimes he takes favours, or if you’re lucky, he finds you interesting enough that he just does it for free.”

Abed raises a brow, just as Jeff throws back a shot. “Is there a rhyme or reason to that?”

Britta smiles at him pityingly. “Never expect rhyme or reason when Pierce Hawthorne is involved.”

It’s later on in the night, when the rest of the bar’s energy has died down as the regulars go home, leaving just Abed, Jeff, and Troy sitting at a corner table. None of them are more than slightly tipsy, even as Troy almost drops his glass when Abed says, “We almost died a few days before we got here.”

“What the hell?” Troy splutters, coughing against the shock and the sharpness of the vodka. “Wait, you’re gonna have to tell me the whole story. What happened to you guys?”

“Too much to tell you in one sitting,” Jeff replies, taking a swig of his whiskey. “We ran into those Pinkertons. They’ve been after us since the beginning.”

“We got scoped out in Willowson,” Abed explains, fiddling with the sticker of his beer, “A man named Lucius Fillmore tracked us down all the way to Santa Fe. Had it not been for Annie, we never would’ve escaped.”

“Annie was in New Mexico? That’s some luck,” Troy mutters. “Tell me he’s dead?” He asks tentatively.

“Oh, he’s dead alright. Abed killed him— knife to the gut, it was dramatic and spectacular. Had a whole speech and everything,” Jeff says, grinning as Abed lightly shoves his shoulder.

“He’s exaggerating. Anyways, after that, we got into a shootout and Annie showed up out of nowhere and saved us from getting gunned down.” Abed drinks his beer and looks at Troy. “What about you? What happened with you?”

Troy shrugs before taking another swig of his drink. “Took the scenic route. Did you know we’ve all got prices on our heads in Oklahoma? And that Abed’s price is higher than the both of us combined? And that Annie’s is higher than _all of us_ combined?”

“Sheesh. Annie gets around,” Jeff mutters.

“That’s not all,” Troy says, “The red hats assigned to that state, which I only found out ‘cause I saw a notice, are funded by Jackowitz Oil and Tar.”

“Jackowitz? Anya Jackowitz?” Abed asks, the worry in his tone. Jeff looks at him confusedly.

“The very same,” Troy tells him seriously, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line.

“Hold on, I think I’m missing something here,” Jeff says, looking back and forth between Troy and Abed. “Who’s Anya Jackowitz?”

Abed looks at him with a frown. “My half-sister.”

_“Half-sister?_ You have siblings?” Jeff asks incredulously, eyes wider than saucers. “How’d I never know this?”

“Only the one, and I don’t know her, not really. I only know of her because of my mom. I didn’t even know her until a few years ago, when we accidentally robbed her.”

“How do you accidentally rob someone?”

“It’s more so we didn’t _mean_ to rob her,” Troy explains, “As in, her, specifically. Abed, Jenny Misery, Richie Waters, Bobby Deadeye, and I were scoping out this boat that was supposed to be loaded with payroll for an oil company. Come the hijacking, we found that it had that, and some more,” He leans in conspiratorially, whispering, “State bonds. Up to five digits of hard cash.”

“Seriously?” Jeff balks, looking at Abed for confirmation. “You robbed your _sister_ of state bonds?”

“Half-sister, but yes,” Abed replies, looking at his empty bottle. “We only found out later, when I saw her last name was Jackowitz. Not a lot of Polish immigrants in this country go by that, and I remember my mom sending me a letter once that she’d gotten married and taken that name, and that she had a daughter a little younger than me.” He plays with the neck of the bottle. “The state bonds are another thing. We got about as far as a settled price of fifty-thousand with a buyer when Richie ratted us out and we had to make a run for it. Jenny was holding onto the bonds and got her arm shot off for it.”

“Jesus,” Jeff says, eyes wide. “That’s one hell of a way to find out your sister was an oil kingpin.”

“Yeah, well, if all goes well tomorrow with Mr. Hawthorne, we won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Abed says, even as he feels the small tendrils of anxiety latching onto him. Jeff lightly knocks his knee into Abed’s, a soft look on his face when he does.

They retire later on to their rooms, Troy renting out his for the week. Britta bids them goodnight without a second glance, busy behind the counter with something none of them necessarily care about. Abed collapses on the bed, exhausted even after a day of doing nothing straining.

“You alright?” Jeff asks him gently, taking off his jeans and boots as he sits on the edge of the bed. When they come off, he moves so he’s lying next to Abed, facing him with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine,” Abed replies, his worries melting away as he looks at his husband. He brings a hand up to rest on Jeff’s cheek, smiling when Jeff leans into the contact. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jeff replies, leaning in for a kiss. Abed meets him halfway, slightly awkward from the sideways angle, before deepening the kiss and straddling Jeff without breaking, a practiced move. He kisses harder and wetter then, increasingly becoming more desperate as Jeff’s hands fly to his waist, untucking the shirt there. “What’s got you all riled up?” He asks when they part for a moment, a laugh in his voice even as he sighs against the wonderful pressure of Abed on his thighs.

“I want you,” Abed replies simply, as if that explains everything, then goes back to kissing him. He undresses as best he can, rolling off slightly to shuck his pants and boots off the side of the bed before getting back on top, unbuttoning Jeff’s union suit. “Can I ride you?”

“Yes,” Jeff answers immediately, eyes wide and open as his hands move lower to Abed’s bottom. Abed grins, leaning back down to kiss his way down to Jeff’s chest, swallowing every moan and whimper as he paid his due respects. Jeff is about to speak when Abed puts a hand against his throat, holding it gently with his hand.

“Is this okay with you?” Abed asks softly, planting a small kiss on Jeff’s chest. Jeff’s mind catches up to the question, to which he nods frantically. “I wanna hear you say it, Jeff.”

“Yes, Abed,” Jeff says, looking at him with wide eyes that don’t seem to be really seeing anything. Abed looks his fill as he smiles, finding he enjoys this look on Jeff, desperate and dazed and delicious. “Please,” Jeff tacks on, licking his lips when he does. Abed can’t deny him anything when he looks like this.

Abed smiles at him proudly, before he continues his journey downwards, kissing him every inch of the way as he provides pressure on Jeff’s throat, squeezing just enough that Jeff can feel the whole breadth of his palm but can still breathe and speak. He makes it all the way down, sliding off of Jeff’s thighs when he does, before untucking his cock from his suit. Jeff breathes in sharply at Abed’s warm touch, and keens at Abed’s even warmer mouth, the flat of his tongue against the tip as he slides it past his lips, ignorant of the slightly bitter taste as he listens to Jeff’s songlike moans.

“Abed,” He pants, voice a little strained against the pressure on his throat. He’s not sure where this is coming from, but he’s glad for where it’s going as Abed swallows even more of his length, all while maintaining perfect pressure on his throat. He’d never been much for this (though in general, Jeff had never been too interested in experimenting during sex until Abed) but now that it’s happening, he wonders how they did anything without this before.

“Are you with me, Jeff?” Abed asks, the hoarseness of his tone evident as he looks up at Jeff. Jeff nods, a little dazed as he breathes heavily, biting his lip at the sight of Abed between his legs. No matter how many times they’ve done this, in this specific position, he loved it every time. “Good. Could you pass me the oil?”

Jeff reaches over to the drawer, taking out a bottle of lubricant and passing it to Abed, who takes his hands away and sits up away from Jeff and on his lower back. He takes his union suit off completely, Jeff doing the same as Abed smears the oil across his fingers, before sitting back and pressing one finger into himself. He takes deep breaths, following his own advice he usually gave to Jeff as he fingers himself open, Jeff watching him with utmost attention. He seems to be waiting for something, judging from the way his fingers are rubbing against one another and his eyes keep flicking between Abed’s face and his hand.

“What is it, my love?” He asks, even as he presses a second finger in and breathes in sharply. Jeff looks at him attentively, eyes dark with a thin ring of blue.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, hand twitching at his side. Abed thinks about it a little and nods firmly, then Jeff is moving and his hands go to Abed’s hips. He rubs his hands against them, caressing Abed’s waist as he scissors himself, sighing at the feeling. Jeff’s hand inches a little closer to Abed’s cock, and with a glance up at Abed for permission that he gives, Jeff takes him in hand and starts stroking slowly.

“Good, yeah, that’s it,” Abed murmurs, not really registering that he’s saying anything as Jeff touches him, too slow for any kind of real friction but just enough that Abed speeds up the preparation process. He presses a third finger in, and after some time, he says with a thick voice, “On your back, Jeff.”

Jeff stops touching him, almost looking disappointed when he does before he lies back, Abed getting back on top of him and kneeling above him as he pours more oil into his hand and strokes Jeff with it, biting his lip at Jeff’s eager moan. He positions Jeff against his entrance then slides down, both of them moaning at the simultaneous sensation of filling and being filled, Abed sliding all the way down until Jeff’s hilted in him, then he starts moving.

His hand goes to Jeff’s throat, leaning some weight into it even as he rides him, half-lidded eyes watching the way Jeff’s flutter close and his mouth falls open, a flurry of moans coming out of him. He squeezes a little, leaning down to kiss Jeff on the chin even as he’s unrelenting in his thrusts, so focused on Jeff’s pleasure that when he shifts slightly and the angle allows for Jeff to rub against that spot in him, he surprises himself with a loud moan.

“Shit, Jeff,” He groans, repeating the same action as he fucks himself on Jeff, who only moans in response at the stuttering pressure on his throat and the way Abed pins him down to the bed. He makes a noise closer to a whine than a moan when Abed’s thumb presses against a soft part beside his Adam's apple, head thrown back against the mattress as Abed continues to bounce against him.

“Abed, I— Abed, I’m close,” Jeff stutters out, lip bitten red as he looks at Abed with a beautiful redness all across his cheeks and chest, looking debauched. Abed leans down to kiss his collarbone, sucking a mark into it which seems to be what breaks Jeff, coming in a few short moans and one long one.

“Jeff,” Abed whimpers against his neck, hand falling away from it as he fucks himself with renewed vigour, groaning loudly before he comes against Jeff’s abdomen and chest, Jeff fully sheathed inside of him. They’re both panting now, and Abed moves up slightly to kiss Jeff, slow and sensual and satisfied.

He dislodges from Jeff, feeling a small spark of residual arousal when he feels himself dripping from his thighs, along with looking at Jeff’s utterly fucked out state. Jeff looks contently at the mess on his torso, before he’s rolling over and kissing Abed, hand in his hair as he lightly massages his scalp.

“That was seriously great,” He says against Abed’s lips, kissing him again as Abed laughs. “I didn’t know I’d like that neck thing so much.”

“Me neither. You have a very choke-worthy neck,” Abed says sincerely, to which Jeff laughs this time.

“Only you can say those kinds of things and make it sound romantic,” Jeff says, kissing the tip of his nose. “Do you wanna take a bath together? The water got replaced a little bit before we came back.”

“Of course,” Abed replies, getting up and stretching. He doesn’t miss the way Jeff looks at his ass like he’d seen it for the first time and liked it, nor the way he mindlessly wipes his chest with a discarded shirt.

“I’ll go put it on, then,” Jeff says, also getting up and going to the bathroom. Abed watches him go, enjoying the eyeful that he gets of Jeff’s ass as he bends to put the dirtied shirt away before the door shuts, leaving Abed to his thoughts.

In truth, Abed had been a little anxious to be reminded of Anya. He’d only known she existed two years before their heist, which was close to a decade ago. Once he’d gotten over the initial despair of knowing that his mother had moved on completely and lived a whole different life after he’d been born, while his father strived to raise him on his own because there had been no other woman for him than his mother, he felt neutral to it all. It didn’t feel like it concerned him at the time, twenty-two years old and having lived practically his whole life without his mother, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears the muffled sounds of water pouring and splashing. Strangely, it brings him back to the present, where it’s just him and Jeff in their room. No deadbeat mothers, struggling fathers, or wealthy sisters. Just them, and for a long time, it had been just them.

He enters the bathroom, greeted by steam that seeps into his skin almost immediately. Jeff is already sitting in the tub, so Abed walks over and joins him, stepping into the tub and sinking down, his back to Jeff’s chest. He sighs contentedly, laying his head on Jeff’s shoulder as his arms come around to Abed’s chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeff murmurs to him, voice low as his hands tenderly rub against Abed’s waist. Abed relaxes to the touch, feeling loose-limbed and sated.

“I miss home,” Abed replies, feeling a twinge of sadness in his heart. “I miss doing this and feeling like we belong here. I miss everything that made our home... home.”

Jeff sighs, puts his chin on Abed’s shoulder. “Me too. I miss waking up and seeing you in the kitchen, and you’d make toast because half a decade of living together never gave us any _actual_ cooking skills.”

“I’ve perfected that toast,” Abed agrees.

“I miss tending to the little garden we had, with those dandelions you keep telling me to pull but I never do because I keep seeing you try your hand at drawing them.” He kisses Abed’s shoulder. “I miss being around the horses in the stables. Diana would try to bite Cooper, and Cooper would try to get Polly to run around the paddock with him, but she’s— _was_ an old soul, even before she died, so she just sits there and ignores him enough that he goes away.”

Abed feels wetness on his shoulder that doesn’t feel like steam, and when he glances at Jeff, there are tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes are watery. Jeff has always been quick to tears about anything that gets to him, but knowing that never changed how Abed felt whenever he saw him cry. He presses his head against Jeff’s cheek, holding his hand in the water.

“But you know what?” Jeff says shakily, “Even if I never get to have those things again, I’d be okay with it. Because I’m with you, and at the end of the day, that’s all I need.”

“Now you’re going to make _me_ cry,” Abed tells him with a soft smile, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to Jeff’s cheek.

They stay there for a while, long after the water has cooled, simply holding each other, at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so long lmao. anyways this cranked up the rating so... happy valentine's day yall! we're nearing the end......
> 
> i’m [cowboylakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	8. Trust the Fall

On Monday, eight in the morning sharp, Jeff and Abed stand before the doors of the retirement centre.

It’s not like other retirement centres, where old folk get dropped off to be forgotten by their children until birthdays or holidays. It looks expensive, pristine in the white finish of the facade. Large columns supported the roof, capped by complex column capitals and accented with what seemed like gold. It looked, in all manners, like a modern bank, accentuated by the large mahogany doors and carriages and buggies parked outside of it.

“This seems... excessive,” Jeff remarks, thumb hooked on his belt buckle. Abed nods, crossing his arms from under his poncho.

“I don’t actually know why Pierce Hawthorne lives here. He’s an extremely rich man, but he stays at a retirement centre?” Abed wonders out loud, before shrugging. “I suppose there are weirder preferences. Let’s go.”

They walk into the retirement centre, greeted immediately by a wizened receptionist that eyes them with a bored expression. She regards them with a look from above her reading glasses, asking, “Name?”

“Pierce Hawthorne,” Jeff responds, smiling politely at her. “We’re here on business, and we’ve been told he stays here.”

The receptionist, unfazed, simply blinks at him. “Mr. Hawthorne isn’t expecting anyone. Identification?”

Jeff takes a piece of paper from his satchel, as Abed does the same, and they give the papers to her. She pushes her reading glasses further in and looks down, reading the print with narrowed eyes and periodically glancing up at them.

“Joseph Whitman and Andy Nelson?” The receptionist repeats, and they both look at her with neutral expressions. It seems to convince her, even as she raises a brow and shrugs, taking two passes and handing it to them. “Show these to the guards and they’ll let you through. Mr. Hawthorne is in the northwest wing.”

“Which room?” Abed speaks up for the first time, taking one of the passes.

The receptionist stares at him, bemused. “The whole wing is his.”

They’re on their way not long after, approaching the two burly men in prim formalwear and showing their passes, to which they demand their weapons. Jeff passes his gun and hunting knife, dropping them into a chest next to one of the guards, and Abed unstraps his entire gun belt and drops it in, hearing all three of his knives clatter against the gun. The guard closest to the chest looks at him with a suspicious expression as the both of them get patted down, before they’re let through without another word.

They find their way to the northwestern wing, where a double-door with a bronze plaque bearing Pierce Hawthorne’s name lay before them. They glance at each other once before opening the doors, greeted by a lavish display of wealth, with marble fountains and ivy treillages and the faint strummings of a harp. The floor is so clean it reflects their faces when they peer down at it, echoing as they walk under an arch covered in trumpet vines and bougainvilleas to a lounge, right beneath an impressive loft. Whereas the hallways they’d passed through to get to Pierce’s wing were plain and nondescript, his entryway alone spoke of immense wealth.

“Do you really need all those harps?” Jeff murmurs to Abed, who makes note of the four harps in almost every corner of the room. None of them are the ones playing the faint musical piece.

“They’re mostly just for display,” An unfamiliar voice replies, then they see a man descending the stairs of the loft. He’s an older man in spectacles, lumbering down the stairs with the gait of an older gentleman. He’s dressed in homely clothes, like he’d just gotten out of bed. “Nice to have some visitors, but I doubt this is a social call.”

“No, sir, it isn’t,” Jeff replies, as Abed observes the man. He takes a seat on the opposite couch closest to them and gestures for them to do the same. “We’re here on business, if you don’t mind being disturbed right now.”   


“Ah, I’m already disturbed, but that’s fine,” The man says, shrugging it off, “I’m Pierce Hawthorne, as I’m sure you know. Who are you gentlemen?” He reaches over to his left where a whiskey tray sits atop a side table, filling a glass for himself. “And let’s drop the whole ‘sir’ thing, we’re all just some men here, aren’t we?”

_ ‘Just some men’ put lightly, _ Abed thinks, glancing at the glittering chandelier above them.

“Now, what brings you two here? Actually, scratch that, let’s start from the beginning. What are your guys’ names?” Pierce asks, leaning back into his chair and sipping his whiskey.

“Well, my name’s Jeff Winger,” Jeff introduces, then gestures at Abed, “this is my partner, Abed Nadir. We’re, well, less-than-law-abiding men looking for—”

“Are you two homosexuals?” Pierce cuts in, a brow raised as he looks at Jeff with a searing gaze. Abed feels a spark of annoyance in him as he watches Jeff recover easily, used to the accusatory question.

“No, we’re not,” Jeff says, neutral and controlled. “It’s a common mistake, but we’re not together. We’re friends that have travelled together for a very long time, and we—”

“What about the rings?” Pierce interrupts again, eyes narrowed at him. The spark of annoyance becomes a small fire hazard in Abed’s mind. “You’re married? To whom? Each other, maybe?”

“We’re not together, Mr. Hawthorne,” Jeff repeats, “we’re simply two friends hoping for a new beginning away from our lives of crime. We’ve been told you’re the man to go to for this.”

Pierce regards them with squinted eyes, looking between them with what seems like hostility, before he suddenly bursts out laughing. “Ahh, man, I must’ve gotten you two, huh?” He claps his hands together, like he’d just told them a hilarious joke. Abed glances at Jeff, who has a hard expression on his face as he waits for Pierce to stop laughing. “You should’ve seen your faces. Ah, fine then, with that out of the way— what can I do for you fine gentlemen?”

“Like he mentioned, we need help disappearing,” Abed answers, his hands rubbing against each other from under his poncho. Something about Pierce’s gaze makes him want to fidget. “We’re close friends with a man who knows of your talents, Troy Barnes, as well as one of your clients, Annie Edison. We’re hoping that you’d help us.”

“You’re friends with Annie?” Pierce asks, eyes bright and a smile on his face. “How is she, nowadays? You should tell her to come visit me sometime. She’s a sweet kid, real good and caring, smart to boot. Like the daughter I never had,” He sighs, reminiscing of better times.

“She’s fine, I think she might be coming here sometime soon to visit,” Jeff replies, looking uncertain. Abed feels the same, eyeing Pierce with suspicion. “So, could you help us? Get new identities?”

Pierce looks thoughtful for a moment, before nodding slowly, “Yes, I think I could do that. The question is, what price could you pay?”

“We have money,” Jeff responds, “either in hard cash or—”

“I don’t want your money,” Pierce scoffs, gesturing to the lounge. “Do you see those harps? I had those custom-made for my lounge, just for decoration. Do you know what the price of just one harp is?” Pierce asks, looking between them both. “I don’t want money. I want... a favour.”

“What kind of favour?” Abed asks, the suspicion barely hidden from him now. A sense of dread rises from the pit of his stomach as Pierce smiles at them, spectacles glinting under the harsh light of the chandelier.

Later, as they leave the facility with a contract in hand, they look at each other in deep confusion. They don’t talk on the way home, stewing in their thoughts and righting them as best they can to later articulate. When they get back to the bar, Britta isn’t there, and neither is Troy, so they head up to their room in relative silence.

“What do you think?” Jeff asks, the first words he’d said since they left Pierce’s place.

Abed mulls over it a little more, taking his poncho off and folding it neatly. He plays with his nails, rubbing the surfaces of them and lightly pushing his nail-beds. “It feels too close to be safe,” He replies after some time, long enough that Jeff’s taken off his boots and hat and sat next to Abed. “It’s a good deal, I know, but I guess... I guess I’m afraid. It sounds too good to be true.”

“I know,” Jeff says softly, taking Abed’s hand and kissing his knuckles. His thumb rubs against them, warm and calloused. “I’m afraid, too. I feel like there should be a bigger catch, or at least something else, but... I think he’s being honest. He’s a strange man that more people hate than like, but I think he’s the real deal. Annie and Troy and Britta think the same thing, and they’re proof he works.”

Abed sighs a little, resting his head on Jeff’s shoulder. He smiles a little, then. “So, the running, the rationing, the complicated sex under a tent, all that’s coming to an end. Once we’re settled, we never have to pick up our hats ever again.” He looks at their joined hands, smiling softly. “Of all the ways this could’ve ended, I think this is one of the better ones.”

“Not the best?” Jeff asks, a smile on his face as he rests his head against Abed’s.

“No. The best would be us up in Canada, hunting moose and quail in a forest close to our lodge. There would be a lot of snow, but at least we wouldn’t have to worry about the searing heat anymore.”

“Is it really the best, though?” Jeff wonders, “We wouldn’t be anywhere close to our friends. They could visit, sure, but it’s easier visiting us here rather than on the other side of the border. And you’re no fan of the cold, either.”

“I do have a spring complexion,” Abed agrees, nodding sagely then laughing when Jeff laughs. He moves his head from under Jeff’s and cranes his neck slightly to kiss Jeff, soft and warm and plying. He breaks away after a short while, a little out of breath as he says, “Fine. You’ve convinced me this is a better place to stay. Happy?”

“I’m happy with you, and that’s all there is to it,” Jeff replies, smiling and looking just under Abed’s eyes. He kisses Abed’s forehead, even as Abed laughs.

“You’re such a sap,” Abed teases, laughing when Jeff gooses his side. Then, Jeff kisses him again, hands going to his waist and pushing him down against the mattress. Abed sighs against the kiss, then Jeff breaks away to kiss down his neck, so he says, “Slow down, cowboy, we still have a contract to sign and a place to look for.”

“Mm, later,” Jeff mumbles, lips going back to sucking pink little marks on Abed’s collarbone, and all coherent thought subsequently flies out the window as Abed loses himself to Jeff once more.

They lay together sometime later, with Jeff’s head on Abed’s shoulder as he rubbed circles into Abed’s arm with his thumb. For some reason, Abed feels strangely emotional about it all. It hits him, then, that Colorado will be their home. The thought settles nicely in his head.

“Do you think, in another world, another time, we still would’ve met each other?” Abed asks suddenly, the thought randomly occurring in his head. It’s a strange question, he realises, but Jeff is used to his strangeness.

“Yes,” He responds simply. “If there were different kinds of ‘me’ in the past or in the future, I think he would’ve found you all the same. Or you’d find him, because I know I wasn’t really searching until you came along.”

“Do you think they’d be in love?” Abed asks, feeling a tightness in his throat. He’s not sure why this is getting to him, specifically.

Jeff kisses his cheek, as if sensing something had changed. “They would. They probably wouldn’t get together until after a long time, probably because I wouldn’t be able to come to terms with the fact that I’m in love with you, but they’d get together. Eventually. Maybe after two or three years.”

Abed doesn’t respond for a while, simply laying there and thinking. He turns his head slightly to kiss the top of Jeff’s head then, smiling even as his eyes water. “I love you.”

Jeff pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to Abed’s chest. “I love you too. Everything’s going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Count your blessings they'll say,  
> And after each midnight begins a new day."  
> -Orville Peck, _No Glory in the West_
> 
> —
> 
> 20k+ words, a lot of yelling, and a few breakdowns later, we made it! thank you so much for everyone that followed this story in it's journey :') it means so much to me that you guys read this, and all your comments really encouraged me to keep going. this fic is so incredibly special to me; it's the first multi-chaptered fic that i finished and was proud of, and it was really monumental for me to finish this.
> 
> epilogue will be up tomorrow! thank you again <333


	9. Come and Lay by My Side, Right Here

Despite his initial hold-ups, Abed kind of liked the crisp Coloradoan springtime.

It was cool and crisp most days, but definitely much brighter. The sun would nearly blind him if he so much as glanced at it, and the cool wind made the hairs on his arms stand up. There was a lot of melting snow, slushy and kind of gross to touch, but it was better than the blizzards, which would render them unable to leave the warmth of their home.

Their home, as it was, was a nice two-story townhouse not too far from  _ the Red Door _ and, as they agreed when they signed the contract, within walking distance of Pierce’s retirement centre. The first floor had their living room, kitchen, dining room, and powder room, while the second floor had two bedrooms, with one for them and the other utilised as an office. It was the perfect size for them, small yet spacious enough that they could move around as much as they wanted. Shirley and Annie had helped them pick things out, while Britta closed up shop for a day to help them move things in along with Troy. Troy, to his distress, was the one that found out there was a rat in the cupboards, which they promptly threw out.

There were also  _ a lot _ of bugs. Having to live in a home that needed the windows open constantly for any kind of ventilation heralded a lot of loud insects that would keep him up at night whenever they started chirping, especially when it rained and moths would circle the lights. He hated the feeling of them landing on his neck, which they often did when he was cooking or washing dishes, or doing any sort of activity that required him looking down. It was like they had a vendetta against him.

Jeff was, surprisingly, unaffected by them. He could swat them or throw them outside or pick them up, but none of them ever bothered him. It was specifically Abed they targeted, even though Jeff was no more than a few feet or a room away. Abed had insisted on getting a cat not long after their third month, to kill both the insects and mice that get into their home. Jeff had been against the idea, having never owned a cat before, but begrudgingly agreed to the idea anyways.

Now, two full years into living in their new home, Abed walks into the living room to see Jeff sleeping on the armchair, their sweet-faced tabby cat Dottie draped across his lap, similarly asleep, with his hand buried in her stomach fur. Abed smiles at the sight, putting his bag down and walking up to them, planting a kiss on Jeff’s forehead as Dottie meows at him.

Jeff stirs, blearily blinking his eyes open. “Abed? You’re home early,” He says, yawning as he stretches slightly. Dottie leaps off of his lap, running to the bedroom to presumably continue her rest, as Jeff pats his lap to get rid of the fur. “How was your day?”

“It was good. I got to go home early because George’s wife, Mildred, is in labour, so we only did one play today,” Abed explains, sitting on the other armchair and resting his head against it. “George’s guessing it’s a boy, but Nala said it would be a girl. I don’t know who I trust more.”

“George may be the father, but Nala guessed Shirley’s third son and Carol’s daughter, so I’d go with Nala,” Jeff replies, rubbing his eyes. He stretches and gestures to the stack of papers and empty mug on the coffee table in front of them. “As you can see, I haven’t gotten much done. This case is really something else. I don’t understand how Bellhop, the furniture store, has anything to do with my client’s bellhopping business. It’s not like he trademarked the term ‘bellhop.’”

Abed nods in understanding. “Bellhop isn’t claiming to offer bellhopping services. They just send you furniture when you put in the order,” He says, cracking his knuckles. “You should move to get the case dismissed. Who’s your client?”

Jeff sighs deeply. “Milton Matthews.”

“Definitely get that dismissed.”

“Enough about that,” Jeff says, getting up from his seat. “Do you wanna eat something? It’s getting fairly late. I made beef stew, with a bit of help from Shirley,” He mentions, going to the kitchen. “Okay, maybe a little more than just a bit of help, but I think it turned out pretty fine.”

Abed smiles softly, listening to Jeff move around in the kitchen. He wonders how they’d gotten here, a second chance at settling down, now with a lot more permanence. He thinks about Troy, who bought a place not too far from them with the money he’d gotten from that long trip to Mexico, who keeps their horses in the stable he’d bought out. He thinks about Annie, who stays at their ranch whenever she can, who can shoot all six bullets of a revolver into the same hole but blushes when a pretty lady glances at her. He thinks about Britta, who serves him drinks that taste and feel like a buckshot to the chest, who led the most recent women’s march for voting rights with the loudest voice. He thinks about Shirley, who taught them all there is to learn about cooking, who let him hold baby Benjamin when they visited her at the hospital. He tries not to think about Pierce, who has seen them kissing and thought it had been a joke, who invites himself to their activities even when they’re sure no news of it ever came out.

Most of all, he thinks about Jeff, who’s started humming in the kitchen accompanied by the clinking of their plates, who hated the cat even before they got her but now sleeps with her on his chest, who still wears his hat when he leaves the house, who sometimes wakes up at night calling for Abed, who stayed, who was there, who loved him.

He thinks about how, two years ago, Abed Nadir and Jeff Winger went missing and were presumably killed. He thinks about the news reaching his father, his mother, and his half-sister. He thinks about the letter he’d sent to his father, and the multiple he’d gotten from his mother that he never opened. He thinks about if his half-sister knew he existed, or if he’d been a kept secret.

“Abed?” Jeff pops his head from out of the kitchen door, looking at him. “Are we eating or not?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Abed replies, shaking his head. “Was lost in my head. Come on, I’ll set the table.”

Jeff smiles at him and goes back into the kitchen, apron and all. Abed smiles to himself, thinking about how lucky he’d been to deserve Jeff. After he sets the table, they eat together, talking about anything that comes to mind and ending up in a laughing fit when Dottie climbs onto one of the chairs and sits there expectantly, almost like a person.

Later, when Abed gets into bed with Jeff, the sun having long set and the crickets beginning to chirp, he thinks about this good life they have now until Jeff’s arms wrap around him, and he falls into a deep sleep, their hopes and dreams realised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you for sticking with me this whole journey! and a special thanks to these certain people: [lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jabedalien), [maya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator), [mich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicaxolotl), [mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unearthlyandradiant), and eli. all of your guys' support helped me through this, but without these 5 people, i probably wouldn't have finished this, or even started working on it in the first place. i love you guys!
> 
> as always, i’m [cowboylakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. come talk to me!


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